"Sophy put her tongue in her cheek, and whispering, 'Ain't she a treat?' preceded our reporter to the kitchen.
"'Good-evening, Mrs. Middlemore,' said our reporter.
"'Good-evening, sir,' said Mrs. Middlemore, 'Sophy, 'ave you shut the street door tight?'
"'As tight as a drum,' replied Sophy.
"'Mrs. Middlemore sank into a chair with a heavy sigh, and our reporter took a seat opposite her. There was a jug of beer on the table.
"'Will you 'ave a glass, sir?' asked Mrs. Middlemore, hospitably.
"'No, thank you; I have just dined, and I thought I would come and have a chat with you in a general way.'
"'Thank 'eaven it's about nothing particular,' said Mrs. Middlemore, in a tone of manifest relief.
"'It may lead to something particular,' observed our reporter, genially. 'We're only on the threshold as yet.'
"'Stop a bit, sir, please. Sophy!'