At which the juvenile chorus
sarcastically replied, "P'r'aps not;" "Mebbe you're right," "You'll have
to stop up the keyhole, Mister;" "Mind I don't get down the
chimbley," &c., &c.

At precisely forty-seven minutes past six, the first man made his
appearance. He was a thick-set, pompous individual, with a gold-headed
cane and gold spectacles, and climbed up the stairs with dignity and
difficulty. He was followed by a pale little woman, four small children,
and a stout, red-haired nurse, bearing in her arms a baby, which was
laboring under an attack of the intermittent squalls. Marcus
reconnoitred the party through his pigeon hole, and nervously jingled
the seventy-five cents in his hand. Tiffles stepped forward to the head
of the stairs, in order that he might not be wanting in personal respect
to his first patron.

As this thick-set man ascended the stairs, the boys hushed their voices;
but Tiffles distinctly heard several of them say, "It's the Square."
Though apparently awestruck in his presence, the boys did not forget to
play a few practical jokes on "the Square's" children, such as slapping
them, and pinching their legs as they clambered wearily up. A peal of
cries from his tortured offspring, particularly the baby, who received a
pin in a sensitive part of its little person, so enraged "the Square,"
that he would have beaten all the boys with his gold-headed cane, had
they not jumped away, laughing, and got safely out of the building, only
to be back again the next minute.

"You should not allow these boys to hang around the stairs, sir," said
the pompous man, planting his foot on the topmost step, and bringing
down his cane on the floor with the ring of a watchman's club. "It's
trouble enough to come to your panorama, without being annoyed by all
the young vagabonds in the village."

"I'm sorry, sir," replied Tiffles, inwardly laughing, "but it would take
six strong men to regulate the little rascals."

"Then you ought to employ six strong men, sir. It's your business to see
that your patrons are not insulted."

Tiffles could only smile deprecatingly.

"Every exhibition in this hall, for a year past," continued the man,
"has been a humbug--an outrage on the common sense of mankind. Perhaps
yours is an exception, though, to be candid, I have my doubts of it. Do
I understand, sir, that you have travelled in Africa?"

Tiffles indulged in the unjustifiable deception of nodding his head.

"And you mean to