_Parcel that fell_.--"That's my business."

"Is it? I rather think its mine, though. Why don't you look where you're
going?"

"How can I see through three brown papers and a rusty black silk
handkerchief?"

"Ain't there a hole in any of 'em?"

"No."

"That's a pity; but when you've been here as long as I have, the moths
will help you a bit."

"Will they?"

"Certainly."

"I hope not."

"Hope if you like; but you'll find I'm right."

"I trust I didn't hurt you much."

"Not very. Bless you, I'm pretty well used to ill-treatment now. You've
only rubbed the pile of my collar the wrong way, just as that awkward
black rascal would brush me."