"There, sir!" said the mourning organist, panting with suppressed
excitement. "That will keep you from taking cold until you can be walked
up and down in the open air long enough to get your hair and beard
sober. They have been indulging, sir, until the top of your head has
fallen over backwards, and your whiskers act as though they belonged to
somebody else. The sight confuses me, sir, and in my present state of
mind I can't bear it."

Coughing from the lemon tea, and greatly amazed by his hasty dismissal,
Mr. CLEWS followed Judge SWEENEY from the room and house in precipitate
haste, and, when they were fairly out of doors, remarked, that the
gentleman they had just left had surprised him unprecedentedly, and that
he was very much put out by it.

"Mr. JOHN BUMSTEAD, sir," explained the Judge, "is almost beside himself
at the double loss he has sustained, and I think that the sight of your
cane, there, maddened him with the memory it revived."

"Why," exclaimed the gentleman of the hair, staring in wonder, "you
don't mean to tell me that my cane looks at all like his nephew?"

"It looks a little like the stick of his umbrella, which he lost at the
same time," was the grave answer.

After walking on in thoughtful silence for a while, as though deeply
pondering the striking character of a man whose great nature could thus
at once unite the bereaved uncle with the sincere mourner for the dumb
friend of his rainier days, Mr. TRACEY CLEWS asked whether suspicion yet
pointed to any one?