ot tangled up wid yo' letters
an' de papers. Dat's him now, I spec's. Shall I show him in?"

"Yes, show him in, Todd. Gadgem isn't a bad sort of fellow after all.
He only wants his pound of flesh, like the others. Ah, good-morning,
Mr. Gadgem." The front door had been purposely left open, and though
the bill collector had knocked by way of warning, he had paused for no
answer and was already in the room. The little man laid his battered hat
silently on a chair near the door, pulled down his tight linen sleeves
with the funereal binding, adjusted his high black stock, and with
half-creeping, half-cringing movement, advanced to where St. George sat.

"I said good-morning, Mr. Gadgem," repeated St. George in his most
captivating tone of voice. He had been greatly amused at Gadgem's
antics.

"I heard you, sir--I heard you DIStinctly, sir--I was only seeking a
place on which to rest my hat, sir--not a very inSPIRing hat-quite the
contrary--but all I have. Yes, sir--you are quite right--it is a VERY
good morning--a most deLIGHTful morning. I was convinced of that when I
crossed the park, sir. The trees--"

"Never mind the trees, Gadgem. We will take those up later on. Tell me
what I can do for you--what do you want?"

"A GUN, sir--a plain, straightforward GUN--one that can be relied upon.
Not for mySELF, sir--I am not murderously inclined--but for a friend
who has commissioned me--the exact word, sir--although the percentage
is small--comMISsioned me to acquire for him a fowling piece of the
pattern, weight, and build of those belonging to St. George W. Temple,
Esquire, of Kennedy Square-and so I made bold, sir, to--"

"You won't find it, Gadgem," replied St. George, buttering the toast. "I
have two that I have shot with for years that haven't their match in the
State. Todd, bring me one of those small bird guns--there, behind the
door in the rack. Hand it to Mr. Gadgem. Now, can you see by the shape
of--take hold of it, man. But do you know anything about guns?"

"Only enough to keep away from their muzzles, sir." He had it in his
hand now--holding it by the end of the barrel, Todd instinctively
dodging out of the way, although he knew it was not loaded. "No, sir,
I don't know anything--not the very SMALLest thing about guns. There is
nothing, in fact, I know so little about as a gun--that is why I have
come to you."

St. George recovered the piece and laid it as gently on the table beside
his plate as if it had bee