mpered the little satirist.
"Some folks call me Gentleman Bill, 'cause I'm so smart and
good-looking, Sar!"

Gentleman Bill picked up the jack with which he had pulled off his wet
boots, and waited for a good chance to launch it at Joe's head. But Joe
kept behind his grandmother, and proceeded with his mimicry.

"Nobody knows I'm smart and good-looking 'cept me, and that's the why I
tell on't Sar; that's the reason I excite the stircumsances, Sar!"--He
remembered Bill's saying he would "recite the circumstances," and this
was as near as he could come to the precise words.--"I'm a gentleman
tailor; that's my perfession, Sar. Work over to the North Village, Sar.
Come home Sat'day nights to stop over Sunday with the folks, and show my
good clo'es. How d' 'e do, Sar? Perty well, thank ye, Sar." And Joe,
putting down the umbrella, in order to lift the ingulfing hat from his
little round, black, curly head with both hands, made a most extravagant
bow to the chrysalis.

"Old granny!" hoarsely whispered Bill, "you just stand out of the way
once, while I propel this boot-jack!"

"Old granny don't stan' out o' the way oncet, for you to frow no
boot-jack in this house! S'pose I want to see that chile's head stove
in? Which is mos' consequence, I'd like to know, your hat, or his head?
Hats enough in the world. But that 'ere head is an oncommon head, and,
bless the boy, if he should lose that, I do'no' where he'd git another
like it! Come, no more fuss now! I got to make some gruel for this 'ere
poor, wet, starvin' critter. That hash a'n't the thing for him,
mammy,--you'd ought to know! He wants somefin' light and comfortin',
that'll warm his in'ards, and make him sweat, bless him!--Joey! Joey!
give up that 'ere hat now!"

"Take it, then! Mean old thing,--I don't want it!"

Joe extended it on the point of the umbrella; but just as Bill was
reaching to receive it, he gave it a little toss, which sent it into the
chip-basket.

"Might know I'd had on your hat!" and the little rogue scratched his
head furiously.

"I shall certainly massacre that child some fine morning!" muttered
Bill, ruefully extricating the insulted article from the basket. "Oh, my
gracious! only look at that, now, Creshy!" to his sister. "That's an
interesting object--isn't it?--for a gentleman to think of putting on to
his head Sunday morning!"

"Oh, Bill!" cried Creshy, "jest look a' Joe agin!"

Whilst he was sorrowfully restoring his hat to its prist