CHAPTER XI.
THE STRANGER AT LOVETT’S.
Towards the dusk of the evening of that day, after the last batch of pies at Lovett’s had been disposed of, there walked into the shop a man most miserably clad, and who stood for a few moments staring with weakness and hunger at the counter before he spoke. Mrs. Lovett was there, but she had no smile for him, and instead of its usual bland expression, her countenance wore an aspect of anger, as she forestalled what the man had to say, by exclaiming—
“Go away, we never give anything to beggars.”
There came a flush of colour for the moment across the features of the stranger, and then he replied—
“Mistress Lovett, I do not come to ask alms of you, but to know if you can recommend me to any employment?”
“Recommend you! recommend a ragged wretch lik
