Why—I suppose—yes—that must be it—

Cox. At present I am entirely of your opinion—because I haven’t the most distant particle of an idea what you mean.

Mrs. B. Why the gentleman who has got the attics, is hardly ever without a pipe in his mouth—and there he sits, with his feet upon the mantel-piece—

Cox. The mantel piece! That strikes me as being a considerable stretch, either of your imagination, Mrs. B., or the gentleman’s legs. I presume you mean the fender or the hob.

Mrs. B. Sometimes one, sometimes t’other. Well, there he sits for hours, and puffs away into the fire-place.

Cox. Ah, then you mean to say that this gentleman’s smoke, instead of emulating the example of all other sorts of smoke, and going up the chimney, thinks proper to affect a singularity by taking the contrary direction?

Mrs. B. Why—

Cox. Then, I suppose, the gentleman you are speaking of, is the same individual that I invariably meet coming up stairs when I’m going down, and going down stairs when I’m coming up!

Mrs. B. Why—yes—I—

Cox. From the appearance of his outward man, I should unhesitatingly set him down as a gentleman connected with the printing interest.

Mrs. B. Yes, sir—and a very respectable young gentleman he is.

Cox. Well, good-morning, Mrs. Bouncer!

Mrs. B. You’ll be back at your usual time, I suppose, sir?

Cox. Yes—nine o’clock. You needn’t light my fire in future, Mrs. B.—I’ll do it myself. Don’t forget the bolster! [Going, stops.] A halfpenny worth of milk, Mrs. Bouncer—and be good enough to let it stand—I wish the cream to accumulate.

[Exit at L. C.

Mrs. B. He’s gone at last! I declare I was all in a tremble for fear Mr. Box would come in before Mr. Cox went out. Luckily, they’ve never met yet—and what’s more, they’re not very likely to do so; for Mr. Box is hard at work at a newspaper office all night, and doesn’t come home till the morning, and Mr. Cox is busy making hats all day long, and doesn’t come home till night; so that I’m getting double rent for my room, and neither of my lodgers are any the wiser for it. It was a capital idea of mine—that it was! But I haven’t an instant to lose. First of all, let me put Mr. Cox’s things out of Mr. Box’s way. [She takes the three hats, Cox’s dressing gown and slippers, opens door at L. and puts them in, then shuts door and locks it.] Now, then, to put the key where Mr. Cox always finds it. [Puts the key on the ledge of the door, L.] I really must beg Mr. Box not to smoke so much. I was so dreadfully puzzled to know what to say when Mr. Cox spoke about it. Now, then, to make the bed—and don’t let me forget that what’s the head of the bed for Mr. Cox, becomes the foot of the bed for Mr. Box—people’s tastes do differ so. [Goes behind the curtains of the bed, and seems to be making it—then appears with a very thin bolster in her hand.] The idea of Mr. Cox presuming to complain of such a bolster as this! [She disappears again, behind curtains.]

Box. [Without.] Pooh—pooh! Why don’t you keep your own side of the staircase, sir? [Enters at back, dressed as a Printer. Puts his head out at door again, shouting.] It was as much your fault as mine, sir! I say, sir—it was as much your fault as mine, sir!

Mrs. B. [Emerging from behind the curtains of bed.] Lor, Mr. Box! what is the matter?

Box. Mind your own business, Bouncer!

Mrs. B. Dear, dear, Mr. Box! what a temper you are in, to be sure! I declare you’re quite pale in the face!

Box. What colour would you have a man be, who has been setting up long leaders for a daily paper all night?

Mrs. B. But, then, you’ve all the day to yourself.

Box. [Looking significantly at Mrs. Bouncer.] So it seems! Far be it from me, Bouncer, to hurry your movements, but I think it right to acquaint you with my immediate intention of divesting myself of my garments, and going to bed.

Mrs. B. Oh, Mr. Box!

[Going.

Box. Stop! Can you inform me who the individual is that I invariably encounter going down stairs when I’m coming up, and coming up stairs when I’m going down?

Mrs. B. [Confused.] Oh—yes—the gentleman in the attic, sir.

Box. Oh! There’s nothing particularly remarkable about him, except his hats. I meet him in all sorts of hats—white hats and black hats—hats with broad brims, and hats with narrow brims—hats with naps, and hats without naps—in short, I have come to the conclusion, that he must be individually and professionally associated with the hatting interest.

Mrs. B. Yes, sir. And, by the bye, Mr. Box, he begged me to request of you, as a particular favor, that you would not smoke quite so much.

Box. Did he? Then you may tell the gentle hatter, with my compliments, that if he objects to the effluvia of tobacco, he had better domesticate himself in some adjoining parish.

Mrs. B. Oh, Mr. Box! You surely wouldn’t deprive me of a lodger?

[Pathetically.

Box. It would come to precisely the same thing, Bouncer, because if I detect the slightest attempt to put my pipe out, I at once give you warning that I shall give you warning at once.

Mrs. B. Well, Mr. Box—do you want anything more of me?

Box. On the contrary—I’ve had quite enough of you!

Mrs. B. Well, if ever! What next, I wonder?

[Goes out at L. C., slamming door after her.

Box. It’s quite extraordinary, the trouble I always have to get rid of that venerable female! She knows I’m up all night, and yet she seems to set her face against my indulging in a horizontal position by day. Now, let me see—shall I take my nap before I swallow my breakfast, or shall I take my breakfast before I swallow my nap—I mean, shall I swallow my nap before—no—never mind! I’ve got a rasher of bacon somewhere—[Feeling in his pockets]—I’ve the most distinct and vivid recollection of having purchased a rasher of bacon—Oh, here it is—[Produces it, wrapped in paper, and places it on table.]—and a penny roll. The next thing is to light the fire. Where are my lucifers? [Looking on mantel-piece R., and taking box, opens it.] Now, ’pon my life, this is too bad of Bouncer—this is, by several degrees, too bad! I had a whole box full, three days ago, and now there’s only one! I’m perfectly aware that she purloins my coals and my candles, and my sugar—but I did think—oh, yes, I did think that my lucifers would be sacred! [Takes candlestick off the mantel-piece, R., in which there is a very small end of