id. Kookoo, intensely curious, sought some
pretext for staying, but found none. They were, altogether, an
uncongenial company. The lady seemed to think Kookoo had no business
there; 'Sieur George seemed to think the same concerning his companion;
and the few words between Mademoiselle and 'Sieur George were cool
enough. The maid appeared nearly satisfied, but could not avoid casting
an anxious eye at times upon her mistress. Naturally the visit was
short.

The next day but one the two gentlemen came again in better attire.
'Sieur George evidently disliked his companion, yet would not rid
himself of him. The stranger was a gesticulating, stagy fellow, much
Monsieur's junior, an incessant talker in Creole-French, always excited
on small matters and unable to appreciate a great one. Once, as they
were leaving, Kookoo,--accidents will happen,--was under the stairs. As
they began to descend the tall man was speaking: "--better to bury
it,"--the startled landlord heard him say, and held his breath, thinking
of the trunk; but no more was uttered.

A week later they came again.

A week later they came again.

A week later they came yet again!

The landlord's eyes began to open. There must be a courtship in
progress. It was very plain now why 'Sieur George had wished not to be
accompanied by the rail gentleman; but since his visits had become
regular and frequent, it was equally plain why he did not get rid of
him;--because it would not look well to be going and coming too often
alone. Maybe it was only this tender passion that the tall man had
thought "better to bury." Lately there often came sounds of gay
conversation from the first of the two rooms, which had been turned into
a parlor; and as, week after week, the friends came down-stairs, the
tall man was always in high spirits and anxious to embrace 'Sieur
George, who,--"sly dog," thought the landlord,--would try to look
grave, and only smiled in an embarrassed way. "Ah! Monsieur, you tink to
be varry conning; _mais_ you not so conning as Kookoo, no;" and the
inquisitive little man would shake his head and smile, and shake his
head again, as a man has a perfect right to do under the conviction that
he has been for twenty years baffled by a riddle and is learning to read
it at last; he had guessed what was in 'Sieur George's head, he would by
and by guess what was in the trunk.

A few months passed quickly away, and it became apparent to every eye in
or about the anc