A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. " With this assurance, and at the reiterated request of Thames, the little girl reluctantly withdrew.
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