could be induced to enter it. Mr. Terry
asked Honoria to leave his dry suit and a pair of shoes at the kitchen,
when he would take them to the carriage house, and change there. The
lawyer and the detective had no dry suit, so Mrs. Carruthers brought
them some of her husband's clothes, and two umbrellas, under which they
carried their bundles, wrapped in bath towels, to the place the veteran
had chosen. While the three drawing-room guests stripped, rubbed
themselves down with the grateful towels, and put on their dry attire,
the kitchen filled up with the humid and steaming Pilgrims, Rufus, the
idiot boy, and his mother. Constable Rigby lodged his prisoner on some
straw in an empty stall in the stable, and, producing a pair of
handcuffs, which he had left there, secured him, fastening also a stall
chain round one of his legs with a padlock. The constable was severe,
but he had lost two prisoners the previous day, had been abused by
Sylvanus Pilgrim, and was very wet and tired. To the credit of Sylvanus
be it said, that he came out with Ben Toner's clothes, and lent them to
his elderly rival, and actually carried the corporal's wet garments into
the kitchens, there to hang with a large assortment of others, drying
before the two stoves, in full blast for the purpose. The gum coats had
fairly protected the clothes of Matilda and Monty, but their feet needed
reclothing, and it took some time to dry their heads. Maguffin had taken
off his wet things, and was asleep in the loft bed, keeping one ear open
for the safekeeping of the colonel's horses. Tryphena and Tryphosa were
both up; and into their hands Rufus consigned the dripping habiliments
of their two admirers as well as his own, his fraternal relation
allowing him to appear before the ladies of the kitchen in a long white
garment with frills that had never been constructed for a man. "Guess it
ain't the last time you'll have to dry them clothes, gals," said the
sportive Rufus, skipping along in his frilled surplice, when Tryphena
chased him out of the apartment with a sounding smack between the
shoulders. Tryphena hesitated to send the mad woman into the room in
which Serlizer was sleeping, not knowing the nature of their relations
at the Select Encampment. Matilda, however, evidenced no intention of
retiring, or feeling of drowsiness. She talked, with the brightness and
cheerfulness of other days, and in a gentle, pleasant voice, but on
strange wild themes that terrifie