ously. "I'd give more than I 'd like to say, that you
'd--you 'd--"

"That I'd what?" asked she, calmly.

"That you 'd not set me down as a regular flat," said he, with energy.

"I 'm not very certain that I know what that means; but I will tell
you that I think you very good tempered, very gentle-natured, and very
tolerant of fifty-and-one caprices which must be all the more wearisome
because unintelligible. And then, you are a very fine gentleman,
and--the Honor-Able Annesley Beecher." And holding out her dress in
minuet fashion, she courtesied deeply, and left the room.

"I wish any one would tell me whether I stand to win or not by that
book," exclaimed Beecher, as he stood there alone, nonplussed and
confounded. "Would n't she make a stunning actress! By Jove! Webster
would give her a hundred a week, and a free benefit!" And with this
he went off into a little mental arithmetic, at the end of which he
muttered to himself, "And that does not include starring it in the
provinces!"

With the air of a man whose worldly affairs went well, he arranged his
hair before the glass, put on his hat, gave himself a familiar nod, and
went out.

CHAPTER IV. LAZARUS, STEIN, GELDWECHSLER

The Juden Gasse, in which Beecher was to find out the residence of
Lazarus Stein, was a long, straggling street, beginning in the town and
ending in the suburb, where it seemed as it were to lose itself. It was
not till after a long and patient search that Beecher discovered a small
door in an old ivy-covered wall, on which, in irregular letters, faint
and almost illegible, stood the words, "Stein, Geldwechsler."

As he rang stoutly at the bell, the door opened, apparently of itself,
and admitted him into a large and handsome garden. The walks were
flanked by fruit-trees in espalier, with broad borders of rich flowers
at either side; and although the centre spaces were given up to the
uses of a kitchen garden, the larger beds, rich in all the colors of the
tulip and ranunculus, showed how predominant was the taste for flowers
over mere utility. Up one alley, and down another, did Beecher saunter
without meeting any one, or seeing what might mean a habitation; when,
at length, in a little copse of palm-trees, he caught sight of a smalt
diamond-paned window, approaching which, he found himself in front of
a cottage whose diminutive size he had never seen equalled, save on
the stage. Indeed, in its wooden framework, gaudily painted, it