them close, anyway?"

"I don't know nuthun 'bout yer clothes. Most men as ain't marrd looks
after they own clothes."

"Is that you Ben?" asked the more refined voice of Tryphena, in a tone
of surprise.

"Yaas, Trypheeny, that's jest who it is. Saay, ken you tayl me what's
come o' my close?"

"They are here, Ben, close to the table;" whereupon all the company
glanced at Mr. Rigby, and choked.

"Cayn't you take 'em off what they're on, and saynd one of the boys in
with 'em, Trypheeny?"

The cook coloured up, and laughter could no longer be restrained. The
constable laughed, and the contagion spread to Matilda and her boy.

"Dod rot it?" cried Mr. Toner, indignantly; "what are you fools and
eejuts a screechin' and yellin' at? Gimme my close, or, s'haylp me,
I'll come right out and bust some low down loafer's thinkin' mill."

"Now, be quiet, Ben," answered Tryphena, "and I will send Rufus in with
your breakfast. You shall have your clothes when they are ready."

So, Rufus took in a plentiful breakfast to his friend Toner, who sat up
in the big bed to enjoy it. "I'm powerful sorry for you, Ben," remarked
the Baby. "You don't think Serlizer could ha' come in and taken your
clothes out into the rain, do you?"

"Hev they been out in the rain, Rufus?"

"Why yes, didn't you know that much? If it hadn't been for the
constable, they might ha' been out there yet. I'd say thank ye to him if
I was you, Ben."

"Consterble Rigby!" shouted Toner.

"At your service, sir," replied the pensioner.

"I'm awful obligated to you, consterble, fer bringin' in my wayt close."

"Do not speak of it, sir," replied Mr. Rigby, with a large piece of
toast apparently in his mouth; "I am proud to do you a service, sir."

Ben was a big man, and somewhat erratic in his ways, so the constable
retired, and came back in his own garb, which he had carried out with
him. "I think, Miss Hill," he said, "that Mr. Toner's clothes are now
dry enough for him to wear them with safety. What do you think, Miss
Newcome?"

"Guess we kin take them off now," answered Serlizer.

"Serlizer," growled Ben, "you're an old cat, a desprit spiteful
chessacat, to go skylarkin' on yer own feller as never did yer no harm.
Gerlong with yer!"

Rufus came in for the breakfast things, and deposited Ben's clothes on
the bed. "It wasn't Serlizer, Ben, sure; If I was you I'd try the
nigger. Them darkies are always up to tricks."

Mr. Toner got into his clothes, resol