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Lorry was a pleasant sight too, beaming at all this in his little

wig, and thanking his bachelor stars for having lighted him in

his declining years to a Home. But, no Hundreds of people came to

see the sights, and Mr. Lorry looked in vain for the fulfilment

of Miss Pross's prediction.

Dinner-time, and still no Hundreds of people. In the arrangements

of the little household, Miss Pross took charge of the lower

regions, and always acquitted herself marvellously. Her dinners,

of a very modest quality, were so well cooked and so well served,

and so neat in their contrivances, half English and half French,

that nothing could be better. Miss Pross's friendship being of

the thoroughly practical kind, she had ravaged Soho and the

adjacent provinces, in search of impoverished French, who,

tempted by shillings and half-crowns, would impart culinary

mysteries to her. From these decayed sons and daughters of Gaul,

she had acquired such wonderful arts, that the woman and girl who

formed the staff of domestics regarded her as quite a Sorceress,

or Cinderella's Godmother: who would send out for a fowl, a

rabbit, a vegetable or two from the garden, and change them into

anything she pleased.