If Mr. Jingle, from his place of concealment, could have beheld the expression which the old lady’s face assumed at this communication, the probability is that a sudden burst of laughter would have betrayed his close vicinity to the summerhouse. He listened attentively. Fragments of angry sentences such as, “Without my permission!”⁠—“At her time of life”⁠—“Miserable old ’ooman like me”⁠—“Might have waited till I was dead,” and so forth, reached his ears; and then he heard the heels of the fat boy’s boots crunching the gravel, as he retired and left the old lady alone.