osed with a snap,
and a dry, whity-brown complexion suggestive of bran.

But if somewhat grim of aspect, she was a good soul and devoted to
Horace, in whom she took almost a maternal interest, while regretting
that he was not what she called "serious-minded enough" to get on in the
world. Rapkin had wooed and married her when they were both in service,
and he still took occasional jobs as an outdoor butler, though Horace
suspected that his more staple form of industry was the consumption of
gin-and-water and remarkably full-flavoured cigars in the basement
parlour.

"Shall you be dining in this evening, sir?" inquired Mrs. Rapkin.

"I don't know. Don't get anything in for me; I shall most probably dine
at the club," said Horace; and Mrs. Rapkin, who had a confirmed belief
that all clubs were hotbeds of vice and extravagance, sniffed
disapproval. "By the way," he added, "if a kind of brass pot is sent
here, it's all right. I bought it at a sale yesterday. Be careful how
you handle it--it's rather old."

"There _was_ a vawse come late last night, sir; I don't know if it's
that, it's old-fashioned enough."

"Then will you bring it up at once, please? I want to see it."

Mrs. Rapkin retired, to reappear presently with the brass bottle. "I
thought you'd have noticed it when you come in last night, sir," she
explained, "for I stood it in the corner, and when I see it this morning
it was layin' o' one side and looking that dirty and disrespectable I
took it down to give it a good clean, which it wanted it."

It certainly looked rather the better for it, and the marks or scratches
on the cap were more distinguishable, but Horace was somewhat
disconcerted to find that part of his dream was true--the bottle had
been there.

"I hope I've done nothing wrong," said Mrs. Rapkin, observing his
expression; "I only used a little warm ale to it, which is a capital
thing for brass-work, and gave it a scrub with 'Vitrolia' soap--but it
would take more than that to get all the muck off of it."

"It is all right, so long as you didn't try to get the top off," said
Horace.

"Why, the top _was_ off it, sir. I thought you'd done it with the 'ammer
and chisel when you got 'ome," said his landlady, staring. "I found them
'ere on the carpet."

Horace started. Then _that_ part was true, too! "Oh, ah," he said, "I
believe I did. I'd forgotten. That reminds me. Haven't you let the room
above to--to an Oriental gentleman--a native, you k