it had gone out,
flung it away. Then he sighed and, sinking back among his cushions,
closed his eyes, and was soon snoring blissfully.

But by and by Mr. Brimberly began to dream, a very evil dream wherein it
seemed that for many desperate deeds and crime abominable he was chained
and shackled in a dock, and the judge, donning the black cap, sentenced
him to be shorn of those adornments, his whiskers. In his dream it
seemed that there and then the executioner advanced to his fell work--a
bony hand grasped his right whisker, the deadly razor flashed, and Mr.
Brimberly awoke gurgling--awoke to catch a glimpse of a hand so hastily
withdrawn that it seemed to vanish into thin air.

"'Eavens and earth!" he gasped, and clapping hand to cheek was relieved
to find his whisker yet intact, but for a long moment sat clutching that
handful of soft and fleecy hair, staring before him in puzzled wonder,
for the hand had seemed so very real he could almost feel it there yet.
Presently, bethinking him to glance over his shoulder, Mr. Brimberly
gasped and goggled, for leaning over the back of his chair was a little,
old man, very slender, very upright, and very smart as to attire, who
fanned himself with a jaunty straw hat banded in vivid crimson; an old
man whose bright, youthful eyes looked out from a face wizened with age,
while up from his bald crown rose a few wisps of white and straggling
hair.

"'Oly 'eavens!" murmured Mr. Brimberly in a faint voice.

The visitor, settling his bony elbows more comfortably, fanned himself
until his sparse locks waved gently to and fro, and, nodding, spoke
these words:

"Oh, wake thee, oh, wake thee, my bonny bird,
Oh, wake and sleep no more;
Thy pretty pipe I 'ave n't 'eard,
But, lumme, how you snore!"

Mr. Brimberly stared; Mr. Brimberly's mouth opened, and eventually Mr.
Brimberly rose and surveyed the intruder slowly, up from glittering
shoes to the dome of his head and down again; and Mr. Brimberly's ample
bosom surged, his eye kindled, and his whiskers--!

"Cheer-o!" nodded the Old Un.

Mr. Brimberly blinked and pulled down his waistcoat.

"Me good man," said he, "you'll find the tradesmen's entrance round the
corner. Go away, if you please, and go immediate--I'm prehoccupied."

"No, you ain't; you're the butler, you are, I lay my oath--

"'Spoons an' forks
An' drawin' corks'

"that's your job, ain't it, chum?"

"Chum!" said Mr. Brimberly in tones of horror. "Chum!" he