the citizen and citizeness who acted as porters
at the court-yard gate, rendered them
occasional service; and Jerry (almost wholly
transferred to them by Mr. Lorry) had become
their daily retainer, and had his bed there every
night.

It was an ordinance of the Republic One and
Indivisible of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or
Death, that on the door or doorpost of every
house, the name of every inmate must be legibly
inscribed in letters of a certain size, at a certain
convenient height from the ground. Mr. Jerry
Cruncher's name, therefore, duly embellished
the doorpost down below; and, as the afternoon
shadows deepened, the owner of that name
himself appeared, from overlooking a painter whom
Doctor Manette had employed to add to the
list the name of Charles Evrémonde, called
Darnay.

In the universal fear and distrust that
darkened the time, all the usual harmless ways of
life were changed. In the Doctor's little household,
as in very many others, the articles of daily
consumption that were wanted, were purchased
every evening, in small quantities and at various
small shops. To avoid attracting notice, and
to give as little occasion as possible for talk and
envy, was the general desire.

For some months past, Miss Pross and Mr.
Cruncher had discharged the office of purveyors;
the former carrying the money; the latter, the
basket. Every afternoon at about the time
when the public lamps were lighted, they fared
forth on this duty, and made and brought home
such purchases as were needful. Although
Miss Pross, through her long association with a
French family, might have known as much of
their language as of her own, if she had had a
mind, she had no mind in that direction;
consequently she knew no more of "that nonsense"
(as she was pleased to call it), than Mr. Cruncher
did. So her manner of marketing was to plump
a noun-substantive at the head of a shopkeeper
without any introduction in the nature of an
article, and, if it happened not to be the name of
the thing she wanted, to look round for that
thing, lay hold of it, and hold on by it until the
bargain was concluded. She always made
bargain for it, by holding up, as a statement of its
just price, one finger less than the merchant
held up, whatever his number might be.

"Now, Mr. Cruncher," said Miss Pross, whose
eyes were red with felicity; "if you are ready,
I am."

Jerry hoarsely professed himself at Miss
Press's service. He had worn all his rust off
long ago, but nothing would file his spiky head
down.

"There's all manner of things wanted," said
Miss Pross, "and we shall have a precious
time of it. We want wine, among the rest.
Nice toasts these Redheads will be drinking,
wherever we buy it."

"It will be much the same to your knowledge,
miss, I should think," retorted Jerry,
"whether they drink your health or the Old
Un's."

"Who's he?" said Miss Pross.
Mr. Cruncher, with some diffidence, explained
himself as meaning "Old Nick's."

"Ha!" said Miss Pross, "it doesn't need an
interpreter to explain the meaning of these
creatures. They have but one, and it's
Midnight Murder, and Mischief."

"Hush, dear! Pray, pray, be cautious!"
cried Lucie.

"Yes, yes, yes, I'll be cautious," said Miss
Pross; "but I may say among ourselves, that I do
hope there will be no oniony and tobaccoey
smotherings in the form of embracings going on
in the streets. Now, Ladybird, never you stir
from that fire till I come back! Take care of the
dear husband you have recovered, and don't
move your pretty head from his shoulder
as you have it now, till you see me again !
May I ask a question, Doctor Manette, before
I go?"

"I think you may take that liberty," the
Doctor answered, smiling.

"For gracious' sake, don't talk about Liberty;
we have quite enough of that," said Miss
Pross.

"Hush, dear! Again?" Lucie remonstrated.

"Well, my sweet," said Miss Pross, nodding
her head emphatically, "the short and the long
of it is, that I am a subject of His Most
Gracious Majesty King George the Third;"
Miss Pross curtseyed at the name; "and as
such, my maxim is, Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks, On him our
hopes we fix, God save the King!"

Mr. Cruncher, in an access of loyalty,
growlingly repeated the words after Miss Pross, like
somebody at church.

"I am glad you have so much of the Englishman
in you, though I wish you had never taken
that cold in your voice," said Miss Pross,
approvingly. "But the question, Doctor Manette.
Is there"—it was the good creature's way to
affect to make light of anything that was a great
anxiety with them all, and to come at it in this
chance manner—"is there any prospect yet, of
our getting out of this place?"

"I fear not yet. It would be dangerous for
Charles yet."

"Heigh-ho-hum!" said Miss Pross, cheerfully
repressing a sigh as she glanced at her darling's
golden hair in the light of the fire, "then we
must have patience and wait: that's all. We
must hold up our heads and fight low, as my
brother Solomon used to say. Now, Mr.
Cruncher!—Don't you move, Ladybird!"

They went out, leaving Lucie, and her
husband, her father, and the child, by a bright
fire. Mr Lorry was expected back
presently from the Banking House. Miss Pross
had lighted the lamp, but had put it aside in a
corner, that they might enjoy the firelight
undisturbed. Little Lucie sat by her grandfather
with her hands clasped through his arm; and
he, in a tone not rising much above a whisper,
began to tell her a story of a great and powerful
Fairy who had opened a prison-wall and let out
a captive who had once done the Fairy a service.