ere." "But," I interposed, "suppose we leave
here, and can't get in anywhere else?" A vision of the Babes in the Wood
rose before me. There was a rap at the door; the fourth chambermaid, to
announce dinner. We finished our consultation hurriedly, and descended
to the parlor, where we were to dine. It was a small room, already
occupied by a large table and a party from the country; an old lady to
play propriety, a middle-aged person of severe countenance to act it,
and a pair of incipient and insipid lovers. He was a spectacled prig in
a white necktie, a clergyman, I suppose, though he looked amazingly like
a waiter, and she a little round combination of dimples and giggle.

_He._ "Have you been out for a walk this morning?"

_She._ "No; te-he-he-he."

_He._ "You ought to, you know."

_She._ "Te-he-he-he--yes."

_He._ "You should always exercise before dinner."

_She._ "Te-he-he-he."

Here the words gave out entirely, and, it being remarkably droll, all
joined in the chorus. "We must go somewhere else, if possible," we
explained to Mrs. B., when, a little later, we found our way to her
door. "At least we shall be better contented if we make the attempt."
The Good Man offered his protection; we found a cab, and proceeded to
explore the city, asking admittance in vain at one hotel after another,
until at last the Golden Cross upon the Strand, more charitable than
its neighbor, or less full, opened its doors, and the good landlady, of
unbounded proportions, made us both welcome and comfortable. Quite
palatial did our neat bed-room, draped in white, appear. We were the
proud possessors, also, of a parlor, with a round mirror over the
mantel, a round table in the centre, a sofa, of which Pharaoh's heart is
no comparison as regards hardness, a row of stiff, proper arm-chairs,
and any amount of ornamentation in the way of works of art upon the
walls, and shining snuffers and candlesticks upon the mantel. Our
bargain completed, there remained nothing to be done but to remove our
baggage from the other house, which I am sure we could never have
attempted alone. Think of walking in and addressing the landlady, while
the chambermaids and waiters peeped from behind the doors, with, "We
don't like your house, madam. Your rooms are tucked up, your beds
uninviting, your chambermaids frowsy, your waiters stupid, and your
little parlor an abomination." How could we have done it? The Good Man
volunteered. "But do you not mind?" "N