good. "What was the number of Mr.
Wilkinson's room?"

Mine host replied that it was No. 32, the next to his own. Before
retiring, Coristine looked at the fanlight over the door of No. 32; it
was dark. Nevertheless he knocked, but failed to evoke a response.
"Farquhar, my dear," he whispered in an audible tone, but still there
was no answer. So he heaved a sigh, and, returning to his apartment,
read a few words out of his pocket prayer-book, and went to bed. There
he had an awful dream, of the old captain leading Wilkinson by the
collar and tail of his coat up to the altar, where Miss Carmichael
stood, resplendent in pearls and diamonds, betokening untold wealth; of
an attempt at rescue by himself and The Crew, which was nipped in the
bud by the advent of the veteran, his daughter and Miss Jewplesshy. The
daughter laid violent hands upon The Crew and waltzed him out of the
church door, while the veteran took Coristine's palsied arm and placed
that of his young mistress upon it, ordering them, with military words
of command, to accompany the victims, as bridesmaid and groomsman. When
the dreamer recovered sufficiently to look the officiating clergyman
full in the face, he saw that this personage was no other than Frank,
the news-agent, whereupon he laughed immediately and awoke.

"Corry, Corry, my dear fellow, are you able to get up, or shall I break
the door in?" were the words that greeted his ear on awaking.

"The omadhaun!" he said to himself under the bedclothes; "it would be a
good thing to serve him with the sauce of silence, as he did me last
night." But better counsels prevailed in his warm Irish heart, and he
arose to unlock the door, when suddenly it flew open, and Wilkinson,
with nothing but a pair of trousers added to his night attire, fell
backwards into his arms. It was broad daylight as each looked into the
other's face for explanations.

"But you're strong, Wilks!" said the lawyer with admiration.

"Corry, when I heard you groan that way, I was sure you were in a fit."

"Oh, it was nothing," replied his friend, who found it hard to keep from
laughing, "only a bad nightmare."

"What were you dreaming about to bring it on?"

Now, this was just what Coristine dared not tell, for the truth would
bring up all last night's misunderstanding. So he made up a story of
Wilkinson's teaching The Crew navigation and the use of the globes, when
the captain interfered and threatened to kick master and pupil
ove