"Oh! If you please, miss," said Charley in a whisper, with her eyes at their roundest and largest. "You're wanted at the Dedlock Arms."
"Why, Charley," said I, "who can possibly want me at the public-house?"
"I don't know, miss," returned Charley, putting her head forward and folding her hands tight upon the band of her little apron, which she always did in the enjoyment of anything mysterious or confidential, "but it's a gentleman, miss, and his compliments, and will you please to come without saying anything about it."
"Whose compliments, Charley?"
"His'n, miss," returned Charley, whose grammatical education was advancing, but not very rapidly.
"And how do you come to be the messenger, Charley?"
"I am not the messenger, if you please, miss," returned my little maid. "It was W. Grubble, miss."

"Oh! If you please, miss," said Charley in a whisper. "You're wanted at the Dedlock Arms."
"Why, Charley," said I, "who can possibly want me at the public-house?"
"I don't know, miss," returned Charley, "but it's a gentleman, miss, and his compliments, and will you please to come without saying anything about it. It's a message come through the landlord Mr. Grubble, miss."
