had got a raise, and at last he had been able to send for his wife and two little girls. A telegram had come that day from Quebec to say that they were arrived. He was thoroughly tired of hotel life. It was all very well in its way, but, after all, there was nothing like a home of his own for a man. He had had enough of rooming with Kirke. Duncan was getting more overbearing all the time, especially since he was going with the mayor's daughter.
He came in now, and said to Lovering:
"It's a fine nicht."
"Ay. But sultry."
"Nothing of the soort. It's balmy. You couldn't ask for a finer nicht." He ordered his beer and then continued—"The Byes have given notice today. Going to start on their own. Five of the third-floor boarders are leaving with them. Charley told me just now that Mrs. Jessop had a letter from Mr. Hodgins this morning giving her a month's warning, too. Mark my words, Jack, Bastien himself will be out of a job before spring."
"He can marry Mrs. Jessop, then."
Kirke's light eyes moved sharply over the room.
"Who's that just come in? Why, it's Mayberry! He's in a fine stew about something. He's gibbering like an idiot. Let's see what's up, Jack."
He hurried over to the tailor, and Lovering, sucking his "clay," lazily followed him.
Mr. Mayberry was in a pitiable state. He, who rarely moved faster than a snail's gallop, had run wildly through the street from his shop to Beemer's, forcing his weak limbs and sluggish heart to such violent action that he stood now, open-mouthed, gasping like a fish, clinging to the bar for support, while he tried with all his might to tell
