The landlady waited breathlessly for the result.

It appeared to have quieted Old Tom.
'What's the matter ?' said Mrs.Mel, severely.
The landlady implored her to speak him fair, and reflect on the desperate things he might attempt.
'What's the matter?
Can anything be done for you ?' Mr.Tom Cogglesby's reply comprised an insinuation so infamous regarding women when they have a solitary man in their power, that it cannot be placed on record.
'Is anything the matter with your bed ?' 'Anything?
Yes; anything is the matter, ma'am.

Hope twenty live geese inside it's enough-eh?
Bed, do you call it?
It's the rack! It's damnation! Bed?
Ha!' After delivering this, he was heard stamping up and down the room.
'My very best bed!' whispered the landlady.

'Would it please you, sir, to change--I can give you another ?' 'I'm not a man of experiments, ma'am-'specially in strange houses.' 'So very, very sorry!' 'What the deuce!' Old Tom came close to the door.

'You whimpering! You put a man in a beast of a bed--you drive him half mad--and then begin to blubber! Go away.' 'I am so sorry, sir!' 'If you don't go away, ma'am, I shall think your intentions are improper.' 'Oh, my goodness!' cried poor Mrs.Hawkshaw.