as you can," she added, "for thar ain't but the one room."

Our sex--by which, my dear sir, I allude of course to the stronger
portion of humanity--has been generally relieved from the imputation of
curiosity, or a fondness for gossip. Yet I am constrained to say
that hardly had the door closed on Miggles than we crowded together,
whispering, snickering, smiling, and exchanging suspicions, surmises,
and a thousand speculations in regard to our pretty hostess and her
singular companion. I fear that we even hustled that imbecile paralytic,
who sat like a voiceless Memnon in our midst, gazing with the serene
indifference of the Past in his passionate eyes upon our wordy counsels.
In the midst of an exciting discussion the door opened again, and
Miggles re-entered.

But not, apparently, the same Miggles who a few hours before had flashed
upon us. Her eyes were downcast, and as she hesitated for a moment on
the threshold, with a blanket on her arm, she seemed to have left behind
her the frank fearlessness which had charmed us a moment before. Coming
into the room, she drew a low stool beside the paralytic's chair, sat
down, drew the blanket over her shoulders, and saying, "If it's all the
same to you, boys, as we're rather crowded, I'll stop here tonight,"
took the invalid's withered hand in her own, and turned her eyes upon
the dying fire. An instinctive feeling that this was only premonitory
to more confidential relations, and perhaps some shame at our previous
curiosity, kept us silent. The rain still beat upon the roof, wandering
gusts of wind stirred the embers into momentary brightness, until, in a
lull of the elements, Miggles suddenly lifted up her head, and, throwing
her hair over her shoulder, turned her face upon the group and asked:

"Is there any of you that knows me?"