"To be sure it would, my dear," replied the Jew.

"But I didn't blab it, did I, Fagin?" demanded Tom, pouring question upon question with great volubility.

"No, no, to be sure," replied the Jew; "you were too stout-hearted for that,- a deal too stout my dear."

66 Perhaps I was," rejoined Tom, looking round; "and if I was, what's to laugh at in that; eh, Fagin ?"

The Jew, perceiving that Mr. Chitling was considerably roused, hastened to assure him that nobody was laughing, and, to prove the gravity of the company, appealed to Master Bates, the principal offender; but unfortunately Charley, in opening his mouth to reply that he was never more serious in his life, was unable to prevent the escape of such a violent roar that the abused Mr. Chitling without any preliminary ceremonies rushed across the room, and aimed a blow at the offender, who, being skilful in evading pursuit, ducked to avoid it, and chose his time so well that it lighted on

the chest of the merry old gentleman, and caused him to stagger to the wall, where he stood panting for breath while Mr. Chitling looked on in intense dismay.

"Hark!" cried the Dodger at this moment, "I heard the tinkler." Catching up the light, he crept softly up stairs.

The bell rang again with some impatience while the party were in darkness. After a short pause, the Dodger reappeared, and whispered Fagin mysteriously.

"What!" cried the Jew, " alone?"

The Dodger nodded in the affirmative, and, shading the flame of the candle with his hand, gave Charley Bates a private intimation in dumb show that he had better not be funny

just then. Having performed this friendly office, he fixed his eyes on the Jew's face and awaited his directions.

The old man bit his yellow fingers, and meditated for some seconds; his face working with agitation the while, as if he dreaded something, and feared to know the worst. At length he raised his head.

"Where is he?" he asked.

"The Dodger pointed to the floor above, and made a gesture as if to leave the room.

66

Yes," said the Jew, answering the mute inquiry; "bring him down. Hush! Quiet, Charley!-gently, Tom! Scarce, scarce!" This brief direction to Charley Bates and his recent antagonist to retire, was softly and immediately obeyed. There was no sound of their whereabout when the Dodger descended the stairs bearing the light in his hand, and followed by a man in a coarse smock-frock, who, after casting a hurried glance round the room, pulled off a large wrapper which had concealed the lower portion of his face, and disclosed-all haggard, unwashed, and unshaven, the features of flash Toby Crackit.

"How are you, Fagey?" said the worthy, nodding to the Jew. "Pop that shawl away in my castor, Dodger, so that I may know where to find it when I cut; that's the time of day! You'll be a fine young cracksman afore the old file now."

With these words he pulled up the smock

frock, and, winding it round his middle, drew a chair to the fire, and placed his feet upon the hob.

"See there, Fagey," he said, pointing disconsolately to his top-boots; "not a drop of Day and Martin since you know when; not a bubble of blacking, by ! but don't look at me in that way, man. All in good time; I can't talk about business till I've eat and drank, so produce the sustainance, and let's have a quiet fill-out for the first time these three days!"

The Jew motioned to the Dodger to place what eatables there were upon the table: and, seating himself opposite the housebreaker, waited his leisure.

To judge from appearances, Toby was by no means in a hurry to open the conversation. At first the Jew contented himself with patiently watching his countenance, as if to gain from its expression some clue to the intelligence he brought; but in vain. He looked tired and worn, but there was the same complacent repose upon his features that they

always wore, and through dirt, and beard, and whisker, there still shone unimpaired the selfsatisfied smirk of flash Toby Crackit. Then the Jew in an agony of impatience watched every morsel he put into his mouth, pacing up and down the room meanwhile in irrepressible excitement. It was all of no use. Toby continued to eat with the utmost outward indifference until he could eat no more; and then ordering the Dodger out, closed the door, mixed a glass of spirits and water, and composed himself for talking.

"First and foremost, Fagey," said Toby. "Yes, yes!" interposed the Jew, drawing up his chair.

Mr. Crackit stopped to take a draught of spirits and water, and to declare that the gin was excellent; and then placing his feet against the low mantelpiece, so as to bring his boots to about the level of his eye quietly resumed.

"First and foremost, Fagey," said the housebreaker, "how's Bill?"

"What!" screamed the Jew, starting from his seat.