"Why, sir, I have got up a little humble petition. You see, sir, my husband, Solomon Slick, is a watch-maker, and one day, about a month ago, he went out to go to the city with two chronometers, to take to Brown, Smuggins, Bugsby, and Podd, who employ him, and he was never afterwards heard of, leaving me with six children, and one at the breast. Now, Mr. Brown is a kind sort of man, and spoke to Podd about doing something, but Bugsby and Smuggins, they will have it that my husband ran away with the watches, and that we are only watching the best time to go to him; but my aunt, Mrs. Longfinch, in Bedfordshire, will do something for us if we go there; so I am trying to get up a pound or two to take me and the little ones."
Todd made a chuckling noise, like a hen in a farm-yard, and looked the picture of compassionate commiseration.
"Dear—dear, what a shocking thing."
"It is indeed, sir."
"And have you no idea of what has become of him, madam?"
"Not in the least, sir—not in the least. But I said to myself—'I dare say Mr. Todd will be so good as to assist us in our necessities.'"
"Certainly, madam—certainly. Do you know what is the most nourishing thing you can give to your children?"
"Alas! sir, the poor things, since their poor father went, have had little choice of one thing or another. It was he who supported them. But what is it, sir?"
"Mrs. Lovett's pies."
"Ah, sir, they had one a-piece, poor things, the very day after poor Solomon Slick disappeared. A compassionate neighbour brought them, and all the while they ate them, they thought of their father that was gone."