gh," said John.

"Oh, that's all right," remarked Dick as they turned away.

John surveyed the apartment. There were two small-paned windows
overlooking the street, curtained with bright "Turkey-red" cotton; near
to one of them a small wood stove and a wood box, containing some odds
and ends of sticks and bits of bark; a small chest of drawers, serving
as a washstand; a malicious little looking-glass; a basin and ewer,
holding about two quarts; an earthenware mug and soap-dish, the latter
containing a thin bit of red translucent soap scented with sassafras; an
ordinary wooden chair and a rocking-chair with rockers of divergent
aims; a yellow wooden bedstead furnished with a mattress of "excelsior"
(calculated to induce early rising), a dingy white spread, a gray
blanket of coarse wool, a pair of cotton sheets which had too obviously
done duty since passing through the hands of the laundress, and a pair
of flabby little pillows in the same state, in respect to their cases,
as the sheets. On the floor was a much used and faded ingrain carpet, in
one place worn through by the edge of a loose board. A narrow strip of
unpainted pine nailed to the wall carried six or seven wooden pegs to
serve as wardrobe. Two diminutive towels with red borders hung on the
rail of the washstand, and a battered tin slop jar, minus a cover,
completed the inventory.

"Heavens, what a hole!" exclaimed John, and as he performed his
ablutions (not with the sassafras soap) he promised himself a speedy
flitting. There came a knock at the door, and his host appeared to
announce that his "tea" was ready, and to conduct him to the
dining-room--a good-sized apartment, but narrow, with a long table
running near the center lengthwise, covered with a cloth which bore the
marks of many a fray. Another table of like dimensions, but bare, was
shoved up against the wall. Mr. Elright's ravagement of the larder had
resulted in a triangle of cadaverous apple pie, three doughnuts, some
chunks of soft white cheese, and a plate of what are known as oyster
crackers.

"I couldn't git ye no tea," he said. "The hired girls both gone out, an'
my wife's gone to bed, an' the' wa'n't no fire anyway."

"I suppose I could have some beer," suggested John, looking dubiously at
the banquet.

"We don't keep no ale," said the proprietor of the Eagle, "an' I guess
we're out o' lawger. I ben intendin' to git some more," he added.

"A glass of milk?" proposed the guest, but wi