it was not only perfectly light, but
exhausted Nature had enjoyed its allotted spell of sleep; for we found,
to our astonishment, that it was past five o'clock. The storm continued
outside no whit abated, and in the midst of the human hubbub the
father's voice sounded clear and distinct.

"The British lion is roaring," exclaimed Margaret: then, snatching at my
attire, I was in the midst of the disturbance in a very few minutes.

My father stood at his door and held in his upraised hand a pair of
villainous boots, old and "clouted," fit for the Gibeonites, very
different from the substantial English aids to the understanding which
he had placed in all good faith outside his door the previous night. A
meagre-faced chambermaid was wringing her hands beside him. Two waiters
vociferated, whilst a third, whose eyes were still heavy with sleep, was
blindly groping at the other doors.

"My excellent London boots, made on a special last, have disappeared,"
said my father, trying to moderate his indignation, "and this vile
rubbish has been substituted in their stead.--Where is your master?" he
demanded of the sobbing woman. "Fetch either your master or my boots."

"Herr Je! Herr Je! I've hunted high and low, up stairs and down,"
murmured the weeping maid, "and the gracious gentleman's boots are
nowhere."

"Sir," said a little round-headed man, who seemed to have his wits about
him, "I know very well that these are not your boots. I cleaned your
grace's boots, and placed them at your door at four o'clock. It is some
beggarly Welschers who have crept up stairs and exchanged for them,
unawares, their old leather hulks."

"Ah yes," said the wailing woman: "three Welschers, who came for the
fair, slept in the barn, and had some bread and cheese before they left,
an hour ago."

In the midst of this explanation the door of No. 2 was slightly opened,
and an arm in a shirt sleeve appeared and drew in a pair of boots.
Hardly, however, was the door closed when the bell of No. 2 began to
ring violently.

"Heavens! another pair gone!" exclaimed a waiter. Then with one accord
the whole bevy of distracted servants rushed to No. 2, declaring their
innocence.

"My good people, I cannot understand one word you say," replied a mild
English voice. "I request you to be gone, and let one of you bring me my
own proper boots."

The British lion--who, it must be owned, had reason to roar--became
calmed at the evident innocence of the servant