ithout taking his
eyes off the paper.

'Glad you like it,' replied Wisbottle, highly gratified.

'Don't you think it would sound better, if you whistled it a little
louder?' inquired the mastiff.

'No; I don't think it would,' rejoined the unconscious Wisbottle.

'I'll tell you what, Wisbottle,' said Evenson, who had been bottling up
his anger for some hours--'the next time you feel disposed to whistle
"The Light Guitar" at five o'clock in the morning, I'll trouble you to
whistle it with your head out o' window. If you don't, I'll learn the
triangle--I will, by--'

The entrance of Mrs. Tibbs (with the keys in a little basket) interrupted
the threat, and prevented its conclusion.

Mrs. Tibbs apologised for being down rather late; the bell was rung;
James brought up the urn, and received an unlimited order for dry toast
and bacon. Tibbs sat down at the bottom of the table, and began eating
water-cresses like a Nebuchadnezzar. Mr. O'Bleary appeared, and Mr.
Alfred Tomkins. The compliments of the morning were exchanged, and the
tea was made.

'God bless me!' exclaimed Tomkins, who had been looking out at the
window. 'Here--Wisbottle--pray come here--make haste.'

Mr. Wisbottle started from the table, and every one looked up.

'Do you see,' said the connoisseur, placing Wisbottle in the right
position--'a little more this way: there--do you see how splendidly the
light falls upon the left side of that broken chimney-pot at No. 48?'

'Dear me! I see,' replied Wisbottle, in a tone of admiration.

'I never saw an object stand out so beautifully against the clear sky in
my life,' ejaculated Alfred. Everybody (except John Evenson) echoed the
sentiment; for Mr. Tomkins had a great character for finding out beauties
which no one else could discover--he certainly deserved it.

'I have frequently observed a chimney-pot in College-green, Dublin, which
has a much better effect,' said the patriotic O'Bleary, who never allowed
Ireland to be outdone on any point.

The assertion was received with obvious incredulity, for Mr. Tomkins
declared that no other chimney-pot in the United Kingdom, broken or
unbroken, could be so beautiful as the one at No. 48.

The room-door was suddenly thrown open, and Agnes appeared, leading in
Mrs. Bloss, who was dressed in a geranium-coloured muslin gown, and
displayed a gold watch of huge dimensions; a chain to match; and a
splendid assortment of rings, with enormous stones. A general