"Thank ye. And the lodging-house goes on well, eh?"
"Middling,—middling. I have always some lodgers for whom I am always fearing a visit from the commissary; but they pay in proportion."
"How d'ye mean?"
"Why, are you stupid? I sometimes lodge as I buy, and don't ask them for their passport, any more than I ask you for your bill of parcels."
"Good; but to them you let as dear as you have bought cheaply of me."
"I must look out. I have a cousin who has a handsome furnished house in the Rue St. Honoré. His wife is a milliner in a large way, and employs, perhaps, twenty needlewomen, either in the house, or having the work at home."
"I say, old boy, I dare say there's some pretty uns among 'em?"
"I believe you. There's two or three that I have seen bring home work sometimes,—my eyes, ain't they pretty, though? One little one in particular, who works at home, and is always a-laughing, and they calls her Rigolette, oh, my pippin, what a pity one ain't twenty years old all over again!"
"Halloa, daddy, how you are going it!"
"Oh, it's all right, my boy,—all right!"