The Tuesday morning Mr.Davager said he should devote to his amusement, and asked me what sights were to be seen in the neighborhood of the town.

When I had told him, he pitched his toothpick into my grate, yawned, and went out.
I rang the bell once--waited till he had passed the window--and then looked after Tom.

There was my jewel of a boy on the opposite side of the street, just setting his top going in the most playful manner possible.

Mr.Davager walked away up the street toward the market-place.
Tom whipped his top up the street toward the market-place, too.
In a quarter of an hour he came back, with all his evidence collected in a beautifully clear and compact state.

Mr.Davager had walked to a public-house just outside the town, in a lane leading to the highroad.
On a bench outside the public-house there sat a man smoking.