A WHITE HAND AND A BLACK
THUMB.

IN THIRTEEN CHAPTERS
CHAPTER V.

PASSING over a few days, we find our Polly
my-Lamb no longer a solitary little maiden,
but under the affectionate and rather piercing
eye of Aunty Serocold— no relation in the world,
but what, I am sorry to say, is often infinitely
better— an old friend, and also a schoolfellow of
good Mrs. Humpage, deceased.

This lady who, though the suns of five-and-
forty summers had ripened her fair cheek, was
yet unchosen as a bride, had passed the later
years of her life abroad. The death of her
mother, in Holland, had occasioned her return to
her own land; and, at the request of the orphaned
heiress, she had taken up her temporary abode
in Jermyn-street, and there did her utmost to
cheer and comfort the lonely little girl.

[In the lowest possible tone, let us whisper to
the reader that Aunty Serocold, who was by
nature of a lively and social turn, found it sometimes
a little, even not a little, dull. No power
or persuasion on earth, however, could have
prevailed with her to say so. The pair saw no
company, and, now, even Sir James Polhill,
deeply mortified at the failure of his redoubted
lieutenant, had discontinued his visits.]

In the mean time, it had been ascertained
that the band of Black-Thumbs, far from breaking
up, were more active and united than ever.
That excellent brotherhood celebrated their
leader's recent successful exploit by stopping
the carriage of the Lord Mayor himself, as that
dignitary, attended by three footmen and a
couple of armed retainers, was returning from
a performance at Sadler's Wells. Not a groat
did they leave on the persons of any one of the
party; but the greatest audacity was perpetrated
by Lord Lob himself, who took off the enraged
magistrate's wig and chain of office, and rode
off, decorated with both! This unheard-of
atrocity provoked the Common Council to such
a degree as to induce the offer of an immense
reward; and it seemed that Lord Lob, the fearless,
deemed it no unwise proceeding to relieve
the metropolis for a few months of his presence.
At all events, his daring and skilful hand was no
longer recognisable in the daily recurring records
of London crime. And thus matters stood on
the morning on which we re-visit the house of
the Three Elms.

"Do you prefer sitting in the window, Aunt
Serocold?" asked Polly-my-Lamb. "Will you
not be more comfortable here?" arranging a
tempting cushioned chair near the fire.

"My dear, who are your opposite neighbours,
do you know?" was the rejoinder.

"A Mrs. Ascroft, I believe, ma'am," said the
young lady, quietly.

"That's one of them, dear. Who else?"

"Oh! Captain Broxley."

"The big man, that always quarrels with his
chairmen. Yes. Well?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Who else, dear? Go on," said Mistress
Serocold, her eyes fixed upon the house.

"Ah! yes— a Mrs—"

"Stuff, Polly! Once for all, who is that pretty
young gentleman, always making believe to draw,
in the middle window, but always looking—
looking —"

"At you, aunt?"

"Well, it's certainly very odd," said Aunt
Serocold, with a becoming embarrassment. " It
unquestionably is odd. I wish he wouldn't, you
know. Ah! there he is! It was, I think, on the
second day after my arrival, that I happened to
be standing at the window, when a young person
— a remarkably handsome young man— suddenly
appeared in the window of the opposite house.
Our eyes met. His fell— he withdrew. A few
minutes later. I chanced again to approach the
window— again he was before me— again his
eyes fell, and, with an air of diffidence, shall I
call it?— once more he precipitately retired.
These little encounters have been of frequent
occurrence, my dear. If he sees but the flutter
of my dress, in a second he is at his post, but
only to desert it again, with an expression of
mingled deference and (vanity would whisper)
admiration, which, I must confess, have not been
wholly without their effect on my mind. I
thought at first it might be you!"

"Dear me, aunt! why should you imagine
that?" asked Polly the innocent.

"I'll tell you why I knew it was not," returned
the elder spinster. "You happened to come to
the window once, during one of these singular