it's Mrs. Wilkins, without even a pincushion prepared."
While Livy stood gazing in silent satisfaction (merely regretting that the name on the door was Pendergast, not Sweedle-pipes), the Professor turned to a woman, and asked with admirable gravity, "Can you tell me where Mrs. Gamp lives?"
"What's her business?" demanded the matron, with interest.
"A nurse, ma'am."
"Is she a little fat woman?"
"Fat, decidedly, and old," returned the professor, without a smile on his somewhat cherubic countenance.
"Well, she lives No. 5, round the corner."
On receiving this unexpected reply, they looked at one another in comic dismay; but would certainly have gone to No. 5, and taken a look at the modern Sairy, if the woman hadn't called out as they moved on,—
"I b'lieve that nuss's name is Britian, not Gamp; but you can ask."
Murmuring a hasty "thank you," they fled pre-
