groo t ( Dainty see oo large and needed stitcand and try a curtsey. t sounds. Say  to, it  masters: I seyed before to anyone. Noleman had me

    dipping up and doil I t I sseying came as natural to ladies maids, as passing rick, I s it—and  about t, at least, for I can still dip a proper curtsey, even noo.

    ell. seys ory. to test me, and before  my part, like a girl saying a catechism.

    No is your name?

    Aint it Susan? I said.

    Aint it Susan, w?

    Aint it Susan trinder?

    Aint it Susan, sir. You must remember, I s be Gentleman to you at Briar. I s call me sir; and you must call Mr Lilly sir; and t call miss or Miss Lilly or Miss Maud, as ss you. And  Susan trinder. t may lead to Lant Street if t find you a better second name—

    Valentine, I said, straig can I tell you? I een. I s. Gentleman heard me, and curled his lip.

    Perfect,  to put you on tage.

    I knoine! I said.

    ts true, said Dainty. Floy Valentine, and ers. Lord, I es t  to be named for them, Sue.

    I bit my finger. Maybe not.

    Certainly not, said Gentleman. A fanciful name mig o everyones notice. e need a name— it over—an untraceable name, yet one c? Lets make it, Smito be a sort of smiter all. t, I mean.

    urned it, and crooked his middle

    finger; and t—fingersmithief, we laughed again.

    At last  fun,  to? Aell me again.  is your name?

    I said it, er.

    Very good. And w is your home?

    My  London, sir, I said. My