Having filled this instrument with a quantity of small coal-dust from the forge, she approached the door, and dropping on one knee before it, dexterously blew into the keyhole as much of these fine ashes as the lock would hold.

When she had filled it to the brim in a very workmanlike and skilful manner, she crept upstairs again, and chuckled as she went.
'There!' cried Miggs, rubbing her hands, 'now let's see whether you won't be glad to take some notice of me, mister.

He, he, he! You'll have eyes for somebody besides Miss Dolly now, I think.

A fat-faced puss she is, as ever I come across!' As she uttered this criticism, she glanced approvingly at her small mirror, as who should say, I thank my stars that can't be said of me!--as it certainly could not; for Miss Miggs's style of beauty was of that kind which Mr Tappertit himself had not inaptly termed, in private, 'scraggy.' 'I don't go to bed this night!' said Miggs, wrapping herself in a shawl, and drawing a couple of chairs near the window, flouncing down upon one, and putting her feet upon the other, 'till you come home, my lad.

I wouldn't,' said Miggs viciously, 'no, not for five-and-forty pound!' With that, and with an expression of face in which a great number of opposite ingredients, such as mischief, cunning, malice, triumph, and patient expectation, were all mixed up together in a kind of physiognomical punch, Miss Miggs composed herself to wait and listen, like some fair ogress who had set a trap and was watching for a nibble from a plump young traveller.
She sat there, with perfect composure, all night.