“You just have!” replied the small servant, wiping her eyes.  “Haven’t you been a-talking nonsense!”

“Oh!”, said Dick.  “Very ill, Marchioness, have I been?”

“Dead, all but,” replied the small servant.  “I never thought you’d get better.”

Mr. Swiveller was silent for a long period.  By and by he inquired how long he had been there.

“Three weeks to-morrow.” replied the small servant, “three long slow weeks.”

The bare thought of having been in such extremity caused Richard to fall into another silence.  The Marchioness, having arranged the bedclothes more comfortably, and felt that his hands and forehead were quite cool, cried a little more, and then applied herself to getting tea ready, and making some thin dry toast.

While she was thus engaged Mr. Swiveller looked on with a grateful heart, very much astonished to see how thoroughly at home she made herself.  She propped him up with pillows, and looked on with unutterable satisfaction, while he took his poor meal with a relish which the greatest dainties of the earth might have failed to provoke.  Having cleared away, and disposed everything comfortably about him again, she sat down to take her own tea.

“Marchioness,” said Mr. Swiveller, “have you seen Sally lately?”

“Seen her!” cried the small servant.  “Bless you, I’ve run away!”

Mr. Swiveller immediately laid himself down again, and so remained for about five minutes.  After that lapse of time he resumed his sitting posture, and inquired,—­

“And where do you live, Marchioness?”

“Live!” cried the small servant.  “Here!”

“Oh!” said Mr. Swiveller.

With that he fell down flat again, as suddenly as if he had been shot.  Thus he remained until she had finished her meal, when being propped up again he opened a further conversation.

“And so,” said Dick, “you have run away?”

“Yes,” said the Marchioness; “and they’ve been a ’tising of me.”

“Been—­I beg your pardon,” said Dick.  “What have they been doing?”

“Been a ’tising of me—­’tising, you know, in the newspapers,” rejoined the Marchioness.

“Aye, aye,” said Dick, “Advertising?”

The small servant nodded and winked.

“Tell me,” continued Richard, “how it was that you thought of coming here?”

“Why, you see,” returned the Marchioness, “when you was gone, I hadn’t any friend at all, and I didn’t know where you was to be found, you know.  But one morning, when I was near the office keyhole I heard somebody saying that she lived here, and was the lady whose house you lodged at, and that you was took very bad, and wouldn’t nobody come and take care of you.  Mr. Brass, he says, ‘It’s no business of mine,’ he says; and Miss Sally she says, ’He’s a funny chap, but it’s no business of mine;’ and the lady went away.  So I run away that night, and come here, and told ’em you was my brother, and I’ve been here ever since.”