The cold meat being wrapped in a playbill, Martin laid the cloth by spreading that document on the little round table with the print downwards, and arranging the collation upon it.

The foot of the bed, which was very close to the fire, answered for a sideboard; and when he had completed these preparations, he squeezed an old arm-chair into the warmest corner, and sat down to enjoy himself.
He had begun to eat with great appetite, glancing round the room meanwhile with a triumphant anticipation of quitting it for ever on the morrow, when his attention was arrested by a stealthy footstep on the stairs, and presently by a knock at his chamber door, which, although it was a gentle knock enough, communicated such a start to the bundle of firewood, that it instantly leaped out of window, and plunged into the street.
'More coals, I suppose,' said Martin.

'Come in!' 'It an't a liberty, sir, though it seems so,' rejoined a man's voice.
'Your servant, sir.

Hope you're pretty well, sir.' Martin stared at the face that was bowing in the doorway, perfectly remembering the features and expression, but quite forgetting to whom they belonged.
'Tapley, sir,' said his visitor.

'Him as formerly lived at the Dragon, sir, and was forced to leave in consequence of a want of jollity, sir.' 'To be sure!' cried Martin.