"My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. ‘That is my mother. 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. They are used to me, they only cry because they have become so used to being here. Let's go up and see how the patient is doing. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not.
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