r how lonely he feels. And
sometimes a fellah,--here the young man John looked very confidential,
and, perhaps, as if a little ashamed of his weakness,--sometimes a fellah
would like to have one o' them small young ones to trot on his knee and
push about in a little wagon,--a kind of a little Johnny, you know;--it's
odd enough, but, it seems to me, nobody can afford them little articles,
except the folks that are so rich they can buy everything, and the folks
that are so poor they don't want anything. It makes nice boys of us
young fellahs, no doubt! And it's pleasant to see fine young girls
sittin', like shopkeepers behind their goods, waitin', and waitin', and
waitin', 'n' no customers,--and the men lingerin' round and lookin' at
the goods, like folks that want to be customers, but have n't the money!

Do you think the deformed gentleman means to make love to Iris?--I said.

What! Little Boston ask that girl to marry him! Well, now, that's
cumin' of it a little too strong. Yes, I guess she will marry him and
carry him round in a basket, like a lame bantam: Look here!--he said,
mysteriously;--one of the boarders swears there's a woman comes to see
him, and that he has heard her singin' and screechin'. I should like to
know what he's about in that den of his. He lays low 'n' keeps
dark,--and, I tell you, there's a good many of the boarders would like to
get into his chamber, but he don't seem to want 'em. Biddy could tell
somethin' about what she's seen when she 's been to put his room to
rights. She's a Paddy 'n' a fool, but she knows enough to keep her
tongue still. All I know is, I saw her crossin' herself one day when she
came out of that room. She looked pale enough, 'n' I heard her mutterin'
somethin' or other about the Blessed Virgin. If it had n't been for the
double doors to that chamber of his, I'd have had a squint inside before
this; but, somehow or other, it never seems to happen that they're both
open at once.

What do you think he employs himself about? said I.

The young man John winked.

I waited patiently for the thought, of which this wink was the blossom,
to come to fruit in words.

I don't believe in witches,--said the young man John.

Nor I.

We were both silent for a few minutes.

--Did you ever see the young girl's drawing-books,--I said, presently.

All but one,--he answered;--she keeps a lock on that, and won't show it.
Ma'am Allen, (the young rogue sticks to that name, i