Harry, but I warn't gwineter 'sturb ye--he say he come
back dis mawnin'."

"Well, but what does he want?" asked Harry, dropping a lump of sugar in
his cup. He had been accumstomed to be annoyed by agents of all kinds
who wanted to sell him one thing or another--and so he never allowed
any one to get at him unless his business was stated beforehand. He had
learned this from his father.

"I dun'no, sah."

"What does he look like, Todd?" cried St. George, breaking the seal of
another letter.

"Wall, he ain't no gemman--he's jus' a pusson I reckon. I done tol'
him you warn't out o' bed yit, but he said he'd wait. I got him shet
outside, but I can't fool him no mo'. What'll I do now?"

"Well, what do you think he wants, then?" Harry burst out impatiently.

"Well," said Todd--"ef I was to tell ye God's truf', I reckon he wants
money. He says he's been to de big house--way out to de colonel's, and
dey th'owed him out--and now he's gwineter sit down yere till somebody
listens to him. It won't do to fool wid him, Marse Harry--I see dat de
fus' time he come. He's a he-one--and he's got horns on him for sho'.
What'll I do?"

Both Harry and St. George roared.

"Why bring him in, of course--a 'pusson' with horns on him will be worth
seeing."

A shabby, wizened-faced man; bent-in-the-back, gimlet-eyed, wearing a
musty brown coat, soiled black stock, unspeakable linen, and skin-tight
trousers held to his rusty shoes by wide straps--showing not only
the knuckles of his knees but the streaked thinness of his upper
shanks--(Cruikshank could have drawn him to the life)--sidled into the
room, mopping his head with a red cotton handkerchief which he took from
his hat.

"My name is GADgem, gentleman--Mr. John GADgem of GADgem & Combes.

"I am looking for Mr. Harry Rutter, whom I am informed--I would not
say POSitively--but I am inFORMED is stopping with you, Mr. Temple.
You forget me, Mr. Temple, but I do not forget you, sir. That little
foreclosure matter of Bucks vs. Temple--you remember when--"

"Sit down," said St. George curtly, laying down his knife and fork.
"Todd, hand Mr. Gadgem a chair."

The gimlet-eyed man--and it was very active--waved his hand
deprecatingly.

"No, I don't think that is necessary. I can stand. I preFER to stand.
I am acCUStomed to stand--I have been standing outside this gentleman's
father's door now, off and on, for some weeks, and--"

"Will you tell me what you want?" interrupted Harry, cur