e one night's exhibition, whatever
might be the consequences. "I may as well die for an old sheep as a
lamb," thought Tiffles.

During this conversation, Patching was secretly studying the effect of
the swamp, visible from the eastern windows; and Marcus was looking at
the cracked wall in a fit of abstraction.

Tiffles had observed several times, that morning, a youth, or man, of
singular aspect, following him. Occasionally, on turning around
suddenly, he would see this person at his elbow. Looking behind, at the
close of the colloquy with the landlord, he again saw the strange youth,
or man. The being was nearly six feet high, and powerfully built, like a
strong man of twenty-five. His face was childish even to the degree of
silliness. The mouth opened like a flytrap; the eyes were small and
intensely guileless. Only a few wrinkles, and a few hairs, which grew
wide apart on his cheeks and chin, indicated his manhood. But the oddest
feature was the falling away of his forehead, at an angle which a dirty
greased cap, pulled over his brow, could not conceal.

"Well, sir, what do you want?" said Tiffles.

"If you please, sir," said the singular being, in a cracked voice, "yure
the pannyrarmer, a'n't ye?"

"Not exactly, my lad, but I own it. And who are you?"

"My name's Stoop, if you please, sir."

Mr. Boolpin broke out with a laugh, which made the building reverberate.
"It's the village idiot," said he. "He goes by the name of Stoop, which
is short for Stupid. Ha! ha! Come, now, clear out, Stupid, and don't be
bothering the gentleman."

The boy-man began to whimper, when Tiffles, recollecting an allusion to
a semi-idiot in one of the postmaster's letters, said:

"Stay, my lad; I believe I owe you something."

"For pastin' up two hundred posters, fifty cents; and distributin' five
hundred bills, twenty-five cents. Totale, seventy-five cents." The idiot
did not hold out his hand for the pay, and Tiffles conceived an instant
esteem for him. An idea came to Tiffles. This idiot, as he was called,
had shown intelligence in reckoning. He might have a deal of good sense
under that dull exterior. Tiffles had observed, in his travels, that
_the_ idiot which Providence assigns to every town and village, is not
always the biggest fool in it. This idiot might have sufficient
intellect to turn the crank of the panorama, and render muscular aid in
other respects. At any rate, he was able-bodied enough.

"My lad," said Tiffl