Where Mrs Happy Jack and the young-lady Happy Jacks went to at these
times, the boldest speculator has failed to discover: they vanished,
as it were, into thin air, and were seen no more till the sunshine
came, when they returned with the swallows. The lady herself was a
meek, mild creature, skilful in the art of living on nothing, and
making up dresses without material. She adored her husband, and
believed him the greatest man in the world. On the occurrence of such
little household incidents as an execution, or Jack making a rapid act
of cabmanship from his own hearth to the cheerful residence of Mr Levi
in Cursitor Street, the poor little woman, after having indulged
herself in the small luxury of a 'good cry,' would go to work to pack
up shirts and socks manfully, and with great foresight, would always
bring Jack's daily food in a basket, seeing that Mr Levi's bills are
constructed upon a scale of uncommon dimensions; after which, she
would eat the dinner with him in the coffee-room, drink to better
days, play cribbage, and at last get very nearly as joyous in that
greasy, grimy, sorrow-laden room, with bars on the outside of the
windows, as if it were the happy home she possessed a few weeks ago,
and which she always hoped to possess again.
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