“Very well, Charley. I want for nothing.”

“You have your own room here?”

“Oh yes. Upstairs. And it’s quiet, and pleasant, and airy.”

“And she always has the use of this room for visitors,” said the person of the house, screwing up one of her little bony fists, like an opera-glass, and looking through it, with her eyes and her chin in that quaint accordance. “Always this room for visitors; haven’t you, Lizzie dear?”

It happened that Bradley Headstone noticed a very slight action of Lizzie Hexam’s hand, as though it checked the doll’s dressmaker. And it happened that the latter noticed him in the same instant; for she made a double eyeglass of her two hands, looked at him through it, and cried, with a waggish shake of her head: “Aha! Caught you spying, did I?”