Get out, I say! Ye don't know a gentleman when ye see him, and ye never will." It was when these rumors as to her lodger's identity were thickest and when Kitty's heart had begun to fear that his despondency was returning, his nightly prowls having been resumed, that a hansom cab stopped in front of her door.
It was one of her busy days, the sidewalk being blocked up with twenty or more trunks, parcels, cribs, and baby-carriages on their way, by the aid of Mike, the big white horse, and John, to the Ferry for shipment to Lakewood.

Kitty was in charge of the quarter-deck, her head bare, her sleeves rolled above her elbows, showing her plump, ruddy arms, her cheeks and eyes aglow with the crisp air of the morning.

October had set in, and one of those lung-filling, bracing days--the sky swept by dancing clouds, dragging their skirts in their flight--was making glad the great city.
Kitty loved its snap and tang.

She loved, too, the excitement aroused by her duties, and was never so happy as when there were but so many minutes to catch a train--a fact she never ceased to impress upon everybody about her, she knowing all the time that she would so manage the loading as to have five minutes to spare.
"In with those hand-bags, Mike--in the front, where that Saratoga trunk won't smash 'em.

Now that crib--no--not loose! Get that strap around it; do ye want to have to pick it up before ye get half-way to the tunnel?
Hurry up, John, dear! Hold on--give me the other handle of that--look at it now, big as a chicken-coop! Them Fifth Avenue ladies will be livin' in these things if they keep on." These orders and remarks, fired in rapid succession, were interrupted to her great annoyance by the driver of the hansom cab, who, impatient at the delay, had touched his horse lightly with the whip, bringing the big wheels to a stop in front of the huge trunk which Kitty was anathematizing.
"Go on wid ye! Drive on, I tell ye!" she cried, opening fire on the driver.
"Gentleman wants to--" "Well, I don't care what the gentleman wants.