n you tell me whether Doctor Chocker is at home, and disengaged? I
perceive that you have just left his house."

"Do you mean the deaf old gentleman in Number One?" asked Nicholas.

"I was not aware that he was deaf," said his companion.

"And I did not know that his name was Doctor Chocker," said Nicholas,
smiling. "But may I ask," said he, with a sudden thought, and blushing
so hard that even the wintry red of his cheeks was outshone, "if you
were just going to see him?"

"I had an appointment to see him at this hour; and that is the reason
why I asked you if he was disengaged."

"He--he is not engaged, I believe," said Nicholas, stammering and
blushing harder than ever; "but a word with you, Sir. I must--really--it
was wholly unintentional--but unless I am mistaken, the old gentleman
thought I was you."

"Thought you were I?" said the other, screwing his eyebrows into a
question, and letting his nose stand for an exclamation-point. "But
come, it is cold here,--will you do me the honor to come up to my room?
At any rate, I should like to hear something about the old fellow." And
he turned towards the next house.

"What--!" said Nicholas, "do you live in Number Two?"

"Yes, I have rooms here," said his companion, jumping back over the
snow. "You seem surprised."

"It is extraordinary," muttered Nicholas to himself, as he entered the
house and followed his new acquaintance up stairs.

Their entrance seemed to create some confusion; for there was an
indistinct sound as of a tumultuous retreat in every direction, a
scuttling up and down stairs, and a whisking of dresses round corners,
with still more indistinct and distant sound of suppressed chattering
and a voice berating.

"It is extremely provoking," said the young man, when they had entered
his room and the door was shut; "but the people in this house seem to do
nothing but watch my movements. You heard that banging about? Well, I
seldom come in or go out, especially with a friend, but that just such a
stampede takes place in the passage-ways and staircase. I have no idea
who lives in the house, except a Mrs. Crimp, a very worthy woman, no
doubt, but with too many children, I should guess. I only lodge here;
and as I send my money down every month with the bill which I find on my
table, I never see Mrs. Crimp. Now I don't see why they should be so
curious about me. I'm sure I am very contented in my ignorance of the
whole household. It's a little annoyin