IN WHICH DOCTOR TOOLE, IN HIS BOOTS, VISITS MR.

GAMBLE, AND SEES AN UGLY CLIENT OF THAT GENTLEMAN'S; AND SOMETHING CROSSES AN EMPTY ROOM.
'Here's a conspiracy with a vengeance!' muttered Toole, 'if a body could only make head or tail of it.

Widow!--Eh!--We'll see: why, she's like no woman ever _I_ saw.

Mrs.Nutter, forsooth!' and he could not forbear laughing at the conceit.

'Poor Charles! 'tis ridiculous--though upon my life, I don't like it.