It do show how rich they are thinking us now.

There's Jones, the Red Cow, and Lewis, draper, are letting us have as much credit as we like; and they 'ouldn't let us have as much as a dobbin or a yard of tape before poor Griffey died.' Howel drank a wine-glass of raw brandy and went upstairs with the keys in his hand.

He crept stealthily into that room where the miser breathed his last, as if fearful of arousing the body within the drawn curtains.
He proceeded to the bureau and tried the various keys of the large bunch that he now grasped for the first time in his life.

At last one key entered the lock and turned in it.

Hush! there is a sound in the room.
He turns very pale as he glances round.