“To think,” said the cherub, looking round the office with unspeakable enjoyment, “that anything of a tender nature should come off here, is what tickles me. To think that ever I should have seen my Bella folded in the arms of her future husband, here , you know!”

It was not until the cottage loaves and the milk had for some time disappeared, and the foreshadowings of night were creeping over Mincing Lane, that the cherub by degrees became a little nervous, and said to Bella, as he cleared his throat:

“Hem!⁠—Have you thought at all about your mother, my dear?”

“Yes, Pa.”

“And your sister Lavvy, for instance, my dear?”