“Albany, Piccadilly,” replied Fledgeby.

“When are you at home?”

“When you like.”

“Breakfast-time?” said Jenny, in her abruptest and shortest manner.

“No better time in the day,” said Fledgeby.

“I’ll look in upon you tomorrow, young man. Those two ladies,” pointing to dolls, “have an appointment in Bond Street at ten precisely. When I’ve dropped ’em there, I’ll drive round to you.” With a weird little laugh, Miss Jenny pointed to her crutch-stick as her equipage.

“This is looking alive indeed!” cried Fledgeby, rising.

“Mark you! I promise you nothing,” said the dolls’ dressmaker, dabbing two dabs at him with her needle, as if she put out both his eyes.