man that I spoke of, and is probably only
helping Miss Whedell to receive callers. I should think, from the way
they abuse each other, that they were old and dear friends."

CHAPTER IX.

MRS. SLAPMAN AT HOME.

Full of new and pleasant thoughts, Marcus Wilkeson walked on toward the
half-antique house which contained the strange old gentleman. Just as he
was about to swing back the iron gate of the front yard, he saw, at a
distance, the two friends of his bosom and Mr. Quigg descending a flight
of steps to the sidewalk. They saw him at the same time; and both
Overtop and Maltboy violently beckoned him to approach. Mr. Quigg added
his solicitations in a calmer and more dignified manner, moving his arm
like an automaton three times from the elbow. Even the driver, Captain
Tonkins, in the spirit of invitation peculiar to his mental state,
steadied himself on the seat, poked his right arm and his long whip
toward Marcus, and said: "Hu-hullo there--come along?" Having done this,
Captain Tonkins furtively poured a gill of brandy into the tin cup, and
drank it under cover of the buffalo robe.

In compliance with this general request, Marcus forbore to open the gate
of the old gentleman's house, and joined his friends.

"How many people have you called on, you old humbug?" asked Overtop, as
Marcus drew near.

Marcus was on the point of alluding to the chance acquaintances that he
had made that morning; but a moment's reflection stopped him.

"I told you," said he, "that my only visit was to be to our odd old
neighbor. I was at his gate, when you called. And now, what do
you want?"

"I want to tell you," said Matthew Maltboy, "that Miss Whedell--the
Juno-like young lady with the handkerchief, you know--is--"

"All your fancy painted her," interrupted Marcus.

"She's lovely--she's divine," said Maltboy, rapturously finishing the
quotation. "I have made an impression. Congratulate me, old boy!"

"I do," said Marcus, laughing, "and only hope that you will find it as
easy getting out of the scrape as into it. And what have you
discovered, Top?"

"That there isn't a sensible woman or an original idea, so far, on the
block. I wouldn't budge an inch farther, but for Quigg's promise to
introduce me to a young widow who lives next door--a regular prodigy of
science and art, according to his story. I think you said she was a
widow, Quigg?"

"I suppose so," said Quigg, "as I never saw nor heard of her husband;
and she's