The coast was clear.
The breakfast-parlour door was partially open.

He peeped in.

The spinster aunt was knitting.

He coughed; she looked up and smiled.
Hesitation formed no part of Mr.Alfred Jingle's character.

He laid his finger on his lips mysteriously, walked in, and closed the door.
'Miss Wardle,' said Mr.Jingle, with affected earnestness, 'forgive intrusion--short acquaintance--no time for ceremony--all discovered.' 'Sir!' said the spinster aunt, rather astonished by the unexpected apparition and somewhat doubtful of Mr.Jingle's sanity.
'Hush!' said Mr.Jingle, in a stage-whisper--'Large boy--dumpling face--round eyes--rascal!' Here he shook his head expressively, and the spinster aunt trembled with agitation.
'I presume you allude to Joseph, Sir ?' said the lady, making an effort to appear composed.
'Yes, ma'am--damn that Joe!--treacherous dog, Joe--told the old lady--old lady furious--wild--raving--arbour--Tupman--kissing and hugging--all that sort of thing--eh, ma'am--eh ?' 'Mr.Jingle,' said the spinster aunt, 'if you come here, Sir, to insult me--' 'Not at all--by no means,' replied the unabashed Mr.Jingle--'overheard the tale--came to warn you of your danger--tender my services--prevent the hubbub.