Dear me! if there isn't his knock. There it was—to be borrowed. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. "Well, Sir?" cried the other, eagerly. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. “Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed.
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