"Ah, Grabman," said Bill, rising, and making a bow,--for Bill valued
himself much on his politeness,--"come to blow a cloud, eh? Bob," this
to the eldest born, "manners, sir; wipe your nose, and set a chair for
the gent."

"Many thanks to you, Bill, but I can't stay now; I have a long journey
to take. But, bless my soul, how stupid I am! I have forgotten my
clothes-brush. I knew there was some thing on my mind all the way I was
coming downstairs. I was saying, 'Grabman, there is something forgotten!
'"

"I know what that 'ere feelin' is," said Bill, thoughtfully; "I had it
myself the night afore last; and sure enough, when I got to the ----.
But that's neither here nor there. Bob, run upstairs and fetch down Mr.
Grabman's clothes-brush. 'T is the least you can do for a gent who
saved your father from the fate of them 'ere innocent apples. Your fist,
Grabman. I have a heart in my buzzom; cut me open, and you will find
there `Halibi, and Grabman!' Give Bob your key."

"The brush is not in my room," answered Grabman; "it is at the top of
the house, up the ladder, in Beck's loft,--Beck, the sweeper. The stupid
dog always keeps it there, and forgot to give it me. Sorry to occasion
my friend Bob so much trouble."

"Bob has a soul above trouble; his father's heart beats in his buzzom.
Bob, track the dancers. Up like a lark, and down like a dump."

Bob grinned, made a mow at Mr. Grabman, and scampered up the stairs.

"You never attends our free-and-easy," said Bill; "but we toasts you
with three times three, and up standing. 'T is a hungrateful world! But
some men has a heart; and to those who has a heart, Grabman is a trump!"

"I am sure, whenever I can do you a service, you may reckon on me.
Meanwhile, if you could get that cursed bullying fellow who lives under
me to be a little more civil, you would oblige me."

"Under you? No. 7? No. 7, is it? Grabman, h-am I a man? Is this a h-arm,
and this a bunch of fives? I dares do all that does become a man; but
No. 7 is a body-snatcher! No. 7 has bullied me, and I bore it! No. 7
might whop me, and this h-arm would let him whop! He lives with graves
and churchyards and stiff 'uns, that damnable No. 7! Ask some'at else,
Grabman. I dares not touch No. 7 any more than the ghostesses."

Grabman sneered as he saw that Bill, stout rogue as he was, turned
pale while he spoke; but at that moment Bob reappeared with the
clothes-brush, which the ex-attorney thrust into his pocket,