sively unsafe; if it goes on much longer, I could provide you with a maiden aunt of mine, or my landlady if you preferred.'
'Lend me an aunt!' cried Julia. 'Oh, what generosity! I begin to think it must have been you that sent the Hercules.'
'Believe me,' cried the young man, 'I admire you too much to send you such an infamous work of art.'
Julia was beginning to reply, when they were both startled by a knocking at the door.
'Oh, Mr. Forsyth!'
'Don't be afraid, my dear girl,' said Gideon, laying his hand tenderly on her arm.
'I know it's the police,' she whispered. 'They are coming to complain about the statue.'
The knock was repeated. It was louder than before, and more impatient.
'It's Morris,' cried Julia in a startled voice, and she ran to the door and opened it.
It was indeed Morris that stood before them; not the Morris of ordinary days, but a wild-looking fellow, pale and haggard, with blood-shot eyes, and a two-days' beard upon his chin.
'The barrel!' he cried. 'Where's the barrel that came this morning?' and he stared about the lobby,
