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188 privacy. The house in Essex Street had all the appearance of a carelessly conducted lodging-house. The windows were dirty, the blinds were awry, one of the area railings was broken, and the place generally conveyed an impression of insolvency, which the presence of a canary in the parlour window did little to remove. The street-door was open, for a drabby girl of fourteen, in ragged brown stockings, was cleaning the steps, and a rusty cat sat by her side, looking up and down the street wistfully with an expression of countenance that seemed to say, "This is a very hopeless concern of ours; I wonder if there's an opening for me at No. 15." That there was at least one inmate, however, whose spirits were not damped by this state of things, was testified by a huge voice that came rolling out at the open door, bearing upon it the refrain of some old-fashioned nautical song, and which ran, I think, as follows:—

Maxwell and I listened a few minutes, and eventually the singer stopped, and applause, as from a solitary tumbler, appeared to reward his efforts. We then asked the wretched servant-girl, as a matter of form, if Mrs. Talboys was at home?

"No, sir, missis is just gone out, sir. Is it about the lodgings?"

"Yes, it's about the lodgings."