don't care," said I, "as long as she clears you off."

He never seemed to understand what I said, and wasn't a bit set down by
this.

Then came the same old game of getting him into his togs, and parting
his horrid hair, and blowing his nose, and all that.

I can tell you I was about sick of it when it was done.

When we got down in the hall, the first chap we met was the hotel man.

"There's the ugly man with the red nose," sings out the kid. "I can see
him--there is he!" pointing with all his might.

"Look here, young gentleman," said the man, coming to me, "we aren't
used to be kept awake all night by your noise or your baby's. You may
tell your papa he needn't send you here again. There's half a dozen of
my visitors leaving to-day, because they couldn't get a wink of sleep
all night."

"No more could I," said I.

He was going to say something more, but just then a man came in from the
street. Directly he spotted the kid, he rushed up to him.

"Why, it _is_ Tommy," said he.

Tommy put on a grin, and dug his hands into his pockets. "I've got a
knife," said he, "of my very own."

"Are you the young gentleman who left the message at Waterloo?" said the
man. "Why, the letter I got said the train got in at 8 a.m., not 8 p.m.
You don't know what a turn it gave me to go down there this morning and
not see him. Have you had him here all night?"

"Rather," said I.

"Daddy, there's an ugly man came to this house. I can see him now, with
a red nose. Look there!"

"I hope he's been a good boy," said the proud father. "I'm sure I'm
much obliged. I'm afraid he's been a trouble to you. I've got a cab
here. My word, I'm glad I've got you safe, Tommy, my boy. Come, say
good-bye to the kind gentleman."

"He was naughty, and spilt the water on the floor. He must be whipped--
ha, ha!" observed Tommy, by way of farewell.

He didn't seem to care twopence about leaving me, and chucked me up for
his governor as if I'd been a railway porter. However, I can tell you I
was glad to see the back of him, and didn't envy his governor a little
bit.

Of course, I'd lost my first train home, and had to wait till mid-day,
to endure the scowls of the hotel man, and the frowns of all the people
who had been kept awake by the kid's row. Among others there was the
professor.

"Well," said he, "what sort of night did baby have?"

"Middling," said I.

"I expected it would be middling," said he.

Now, Jossy, you