Johanna trembled, for certainly Todd looked suspicious, and yet what could he have seen? Literally nothing, for he was so situated that the slight action of the stranger, in putting the slip of paper into her jacket-pocket, must have escaped him with all his watchfulness. She gathered courage. Todd glanced at her, saying—
"What is the matter, Charley? you don't look well at all, my lad."
"I am not very well, sir."
"How sorry I am; I think, do you know, Charley,"—Todd was lathering the man's face as he spoke—"that one of Mrs. Lovett's hot pies would be the thing for you."
"Very likely, sir."
"Then, I think I can manage now to spare you."
As he said this, Todd bent an eagle glance upon the gentleman who had ordered the wig, and it seemed as if he doled out his words to Johanna with a kind of reference to the movements of that personage. The gentleman had found a hat-brush, and was carefully rubbing up his hat.
"I do hope," he said, "that the wig will be as natural as possible."
"Depend upon it, sir," said Todd. "I'll warrant if you look in here, and try it on some day when there's no one here but you and I to set you against it, you will never complain of it."
"No doubt. Good morning."