‘Old Riah,
Your accounts being all squared, go. Shut up the place, turn out directly, and send me the key by bearer. Go. You are an unthankful dog of a Jew. Get out.
F.’
The dolls’ dressmaker found it delicious to trace the screaming and smarting of Little Eyes in the distorted writing of this epistle. She laughed over it and jeered at it in a convenient corner (to the great astonishment of the messenger) while the old man got his few goods together in a black bag. That done, the shutters of the upper windows closed, and the office blind pulled down, they issued forth upon the steps with the attendant messenger. There, while Miss Jenny held the bag, the old man locked the house door, and handed over the key to him; who at once retired with the same.
‘Well, godmother,’ said Miss Wren, as they remained upon the steps together, looking at one another. ‘And so you’re thrown upon the world!’
‘It would appear so, Jenny, and somewhat suddenly.’
‘Where are you going to seek your fortune?’ asked Miss Wren.
The old man smiled, but looked about him with a look of having lost his way in life, which did not escape the dolls’ dressmaker.
‘Verily, Jenny,’ said he, ‘the question is to the purpose, and more easily asked than answered. But as I have experience of the ready goodwill and good help of those who have given occupation to Lizzie, I think I will seek them out for myself.’
‘On foot?’ asked Miss Wren, with a chop.