‘Does Mr. Julian come to see her very often?’ said she.

‘O yes—­he’s always a-coming—­a regular bore to me.’

‘A regular what?’

’Bore!—­Ah, I forgot, you don’t know our town words.  However, come along.’

They passed by the doors on tiptoe, and their mother upstairs being, according to Joey’s account, in the midst of a nap, Picotee was unwilling to disturb her; so they went down at once to the kitchen, when forward rushed Gwendoline the cook, flourishing her floury hands, and Cornelia the housemaid, dancing over her brush; and these having welcomed and made Picotee comfortable, who should ring the area-bell, and be admitted down the steps, but Sol and Dan.  The workman-brothers, their day’s duties being over, had called to see their relations, first, as usual, going home to their lodgings in Marylebone and making themselves as spruce as bridegrooms, according to the rules of their newly-acquired town experience.  For the London mechanic is only nine hours a mechanic, though the country mechanic works, eats, drinks, and sleeps a mechanic throughout the whole twenty-four.

‘God bless my soul—­Picotee!’ said Dan, standing fixed.  ’Well—­I say, this is splendid! ha-ha!’

‘Picotee—­what brought you here?’ said Sol, expanding the circumference of his face in satisfaction.  ’Well, come along—­never mind so long as you be here.’

Picotee explained circumstances as well as she could without stating them, and, after a general conversation of a few minutes, Sol interrupted with—­’Anybody upstairs with Mrs. Petherwin?’

‘Mr. Julian was there just now,’ said Joey; ’but he may be gone.  Berta always lets him slip out how he can, the form of ringing me up not being necessary with him.  Wait a minute—­I’ll see.’

Joseph vanished up the stairs; and, the question whether Christopher were gone or not being an uninteresting one to the majority, the talking went on upon other matters.  When Joey crept down again a minute later, Picotee was sitting aloof and silent, and he accordingly singled her out to speak to.

‘Such a lark, Picotee!’ he whispered.  ’Berta’s a-courting of her young man.  Would you like to see how they carries on a bit?’

‘Dearly I should!’ said Picotee, the pupils of her eyes dilating.

Joey conducted her to the top of the basement stairs, and told her to listen.  Within a few yards of them was the morning-room door, now standing ajar; and an intermittent flirtation in soft male and female tones could be heard going on inside.  Picotee’s lips parted at thus learning the condition of things, and she leant against the stair-newel.

‘My?  What’s the matter?’ said Joey.

‘If this is London, I don’t like it at all!’ moaned Picotee.

’Well—­I never see such a girl—­fainting all over the stairs for nothing in the world.’

‘O—­it will soon be gone—­it is—­it is only indigestion.’