The String of Pearls (1850), p. 432

"Good- day, Mrs. Lovett," he kept muttering. "A charming day, Mrs. Lovett, and charmingly you look to-day, only a little swelled and bloated with the water. You wish me to settle with you? Oh, of course, I will settle with you before we part. Ha, ha!"
Todd had never been so thoroughly pleased in all his life. More than once he stopped in the street to laugh, and twice on his route he called at noted hostels in the city to refresh himself with a glass of something strong and hot He fancied that he wore upon his countenance quite an amiable aspect, and if one can fancy the devil himself looking sentimental, or an ogre looking religious and humane, we may have some sort of mixed idea of how Todd looked when he was amiable.
In this blissful condition he reached Fleet Street, and just as he crossed the way from Ludgate Hill to the top of Fleet Market he was accosted by a miserable-looking woman in widow's weeds, with a girl in one hand and a boy in the other. They were begging, that was evident, for each of the children, and genteel pleasant-looking children they were, although now dejected by destitution, had upon its breast a little written paper with the one word, "Want" upon it. That word ought to have been sufficient to unlock the hearts of the passers by, and yet how the crowd hurried on!
"Oh, Mr. Todd," said the woman, "can you spare a trifle for the little ones?"
"Who are you," he said, "that you address me by my name, woman?"
"My name is Cummins, sir. Dont you recollect how my poor husband, John Cummins, went out one day about a month ago, to carry the watch-cases he had to polish to his employers, saying that he would call at your shop and be shaved before he went into the city, and did'nt call, sir, as you kindly told me, but has never been heard, of since? The city people will have it that he ran away; but ah, sir, I know him better. Would he run away from me and from
those that he loved so wel ? Oh, no—no—no, I know John better."

CHAPTER XCVIII.
JOHANNA HAS A VISITOR WHILE TODD IS GONE UPON THE RIVER.

"Well?" said Todd.
"Well, sir, I was thinking that—that you might spare a trifle for the children, sir. They are starving—do you hear, Mr. Todd?—they are starving, and have no father now."
"What was the value of the watch-cases your husband had with him, Mrs. Cummins, when he disappeared?"
"About a hundred pounds, sir, they tell me. But don't you believe, sir, for one moment that John deserted me and these—ah no, sir."
"You really think so?"
"I am sure of it, sir, quite—quite sure of it. He loved me, sir, and these—he did indeed, sir. You will help us, Mr. Todd—oh, say that you will do what
you can for us!"
"Certainly, my good woman—certainly. What is this little fellow's name, Mrs. Cummins?"
"William—William is his name," said the poor woman, in such a flurry from the idea of what Todd was going to do for the children that she could hardly
speak, but caught her breath hysterically. "His name is William, Mr. Todd."
"And this little girl, ma'am?"
"Ann, sir—Ann. That is her name, Mr. Todd. The same, if you please, sir, as her poor mother's. Look up, Ann, my dear, and courtesy to the gentleman. God bless you, Mr, Todd, for thinking of me and mine. God bless you, sir!"