"What on earth be you cavortin' 'round for such a mornin' 's this without no overcoat, an' on a dead run?
What's the matter ?" "Nothing serious," he answered, "but I'm in a great hurry.

Old Mrs.
Cullom has walked up from her house to the office, and she is wet through and almost perished.

I thought you'd send her some dry shoes and stockings, and an old shawl or blanket to keep her wet skirt off her knees, and a drop of whisky or something.

She's all of a tremble, and I'm afraid she will have a chill." "Certain! certain!" said the kind creature, and she bustled out of the room, returning in a minute or two with an armful of comforts.

"There's a pair of bedroom slips lined with lamb's wool, an' a pair of woolen stockin's, an' a blanket shawl.