hink there's anything more in it?"

"I think," observed the Carrier, "that I should chuck any man out of
window who said there wasn't."

"Exactly so," returned the other with an unusual alacrity of assent. "To
be sure! Doubtless you would. Of course. I'm certain of it. Good night.
Pleasant dreams!"

The Carrier was puzzled, and made uncomfortable and uncertain, in spite
of himself. He couldn't help showing it in his manner.

"Good night, my dear friend!" said Tackleton compassionately. "I'm off.
We're exactly alike in reality, I see. You won't give us to-morrow
evening? Well! Next day you go out visiting, I know. I'll meet you
there, and bring my wife that is to be. It'll do her good. You're
agreeable? Thankee. What's that?"

It was a loud cry from the Carrier's wife: a loud, sharp, sudden cry,
that made the room ring like a glass vessel. She had risen from her
seat, and stood like one transfixed by terror and surprise. The Stranger
had advanced towards the fire to warm himself, and stood within a short
stride of her chair. But quite still.

"Dot!" cried the Carrier. "Mary! Darling! What's the matter?"

They were all about her in a moment. Caleb, who had been dozing on the
cake-box, in the first imperfect recovery of his suspended presence of
mind, seized Miss Slowboy by the hair of her head, but immediately
apologised.

"Mary!" exclaimed the Carrier, supporting her in his arms. "Are you ill?
What is it? Tell me dear!"

She only answered by beating her hands together, and falling into a wild
fit of laughter. Then, sinking from his grasp upon the ground, she
covered her face with her apron, and wept bitterly. And then, she
laughed again, and then she cried again, and then she said how cold she
was, and suffered him to lead her to the fire, where she sat down as
before. The old man standing, as before, quite still.

"I'm better, John," she said. "I'm quite well now--I----"

"John!" But John was on the other side of her. Why turn her face towards
the strange old gentleman, as if addressing him. Was her brain
wandering?

"Only a fancy, John dear--a kind of shock--a something coming suddenly
before my eyes--I don't know what it was. It's quite gone, quite gone."

"I'm glad it's gone," muttered Tackleton, turning the expressive eye all
round the room. "I wonder where it's gone, and what it was. Humph!
Caleb, come here! Who's that with the grey hair?"

"I don't know, sir," returned Caleb in a whisper. "Never s