Garland, or with
his son Mr. Abel, at once. It was possible that Mr. Abel had not yet
left his office. In as little time as it takes to tell it, the small
servant had the address on a piece of paper, and a description of father
and son, which would enable her to recognize either without difficulty.
Armed with these slender powers, she hurried away, commissioned to bring
either Mr. Garland or Mr. Abel bodily to Mr. Swiveller's apartment.
"I suppose," said Dick, as she closed the door slowly, and peeped into
the room again, to make sure that he was comfortable, "I suppose there's
nothing left--not so much as a waistcoat?"
"No, nothing."
"Its embarrassing," said Mr. Swiveller, "in case of fire--even an
umbrella would be something--but you did quite right, dear Marchioness.
I should have died without you."
The small servant went swiftly on her way, towards the office of the
Notary, Mr. Witherden, where Mr. Garland was to be found. She had no
bonnet, only a great cap on her head, which in some old time had been
worn by Sally Brass;--and her shoes being extremely large and slipshod,
flew off every now and then, and were difficult to find. Indeed the poor
little creature experienced so much trouble and delay from having to
grope for them in the mud, and suffered so much jostling, pushing, and
squeezing in these researches, that between it, and her fear of being
recognized by some one, and carried back by force to the Brasses, when
she at last reached the Notary's office, she was fairly worn out, and
could not refrain from tears.
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