to get all the particulars. I've picked up considerable from Gospeler
SIMPSON, JOHN MCLAUGHLIN, and even the woman from the Mulberry street
place who came after you the other morning. But now I want to know
something from you.--What has become of your nephew?"

He put the question suddenly, and with a kind of suppressed leap at him
whom he addressed. Immeasurable was his surprise at the perfectly calm
answer--

"I can't r'member hicsactly, sir."

"Can't remember!--Can't remember what?"

"Where-I-put't."

"_It?_"

"Yes. Th' umbrella."

"What on earth are you talking about?" exclaimed Mr. CLEWS, in a rage.
"--Come! Wake up!--What have umbrellas to do with this?"

Rousing himself to something like temporary consciousness, Mr. BUMSTEAD
slowly climbed to his feet, and, with a wild kind of swoop, came heavily
down with both hands upon the shoulders of his questioner.

"What now?" asked that startled personage.

"You want t' know 'bout th' umbrella?" said BUMSTEAD, with straw hat
amazingly awry, and linen coat a perfect map of creases.