ce, often three times
a day, he called, and was always welcomed by Marcus, and not
inhospitably received by Miss Philomela Wilkeson. The interviews between
that lady and the romantic speculator usually took place, quite by
accident, in the entry, on the arrival or the departure of Mr. Tiffles;
but, as it happened, not with the cognizance of Marcus.

On one occasion--at the edge of evening--Marcus went into the entry a
few minutes after Tiffles had left the room, and saw that gentleman and
Philomela standing in the doorway. Tiffles appeared to be in the act of
raising the lady's hand to kiss it; but, if that were his intention, he
abandoned it on seeing Marcus, and shook the attenuated fingers instead.
Then he coughed, and, saying "Good-night," went down the steps, as if he
had not seen Marcus in the gloom. Miss Wilkeson coughed also (why do
people always cough?), and, turning to her approaching brother, said it
was a cool night, which was not true, as the night was agreeably warm.
Marcus had never afterward seen them together, and had forgotten this
slightly mysterious circumstance. Wesley Tiffles had, as usual,
something enlivening to tell.

"Got the funniest piece of news for you, my dear fellow!" said he.

"Anything funny is always welcome, Tiffles," said he, closing his folio,
that he might not appear to obstruct his friend's jocosity.

"I've heard from that infernal old panorama--when I say infernal, of
course I don't mean to imply that it wasn't a splendid idea, if I had
had capital enough to see it through--and what do you s'pose the
landlord and the other creditor have done with it? You couldn't guess
in a month."

"Well, what?" asked Marcus Wilkeson, laughing in anticipation.

"Ha! ha! cut it up, and sold it for window curtains. A friend of mine,
who passed through there the other day, says there's a picture of a
lion, or a palm tree, or a slice of a desert--principally desert--hung
up in every other window. And the best of it is, that they made a good
thing of it. The curtains brought at least twice what I owed them. Great
heavens! why didn't I think of it myself?"

"Of what?"

"Why, to cut up the panorama into window curtains, when Patching had
finished it, and--ha! ha!--peddle them through the country. By Jupiter!
that speculation may be worth trying yet. But at present I have my new
patent process for----"

Marcus coughed, and opened the book. Tiffles accepted the delicate hint
in a spirit of tru