And he's a-waitin' down-stairs, which he won't come up, but says it's most particular, and must see you at once." "Hold your noise!" growled the artist, tumbling out of bed.

"What's o'clock?
Leave that candle and clear out, and tell the young feller I'll be down in a brace of shakes." "I couldn't see him," replied Mrs.Wedge, "which he's that muffled up in a long cloak and a cap drawed down that his own mother herself couldn't tell him hout there in the dark.

Was you a-expectin' of him, sir ?" "That's no business of yours, Mrs.Wedge," the American answered, grimly.

"You can go." Mrs.Wedge departed in displeasure, and tried again to see the muffled stranger.

But he was looking out into the darkness, and the good landlady was completely baffled.
She saw her lodger join him; she saw the hero of the cloak take his arm, and both walk briskly away.
"By George! this is a disguise!" exclaimed Mr.Parmalee.