S.E.--In _The Monitor_ it was "with covetous eyes."

P.C.--I know it; hadn't read Byron then. Clever dog, Byron. (_Reads._)

"Presently a cranberry tart dropped at her feet, apparently from the
clouds."

S.E.--How about those angels?

P.C.--The editor of _Good Will_ cut 'em out. He said San Francisco was
no place for them; and I don't believe----

S.E.--There, there! Never mind. Go on with the little story.

P.C.--(_Reads_.) "As she stooped to take up the tart a veal sandwich
came whizzing down, and cuffed one of her ears. Next a wheaten loaf made
her dodge nimbly, and then a broad ham fell flat-footed at her toes. A
sack of flour burst in the middle of the street; a side of bacon impaled
itself on an iron hitching-post. Pretty soon a chain of sausages fell in
a circle around her, flattening out as if a road-roller had passed over
them. Then there was a lull--nothing came down but dried fish, cold
puddings and flannel under-clothing; but presently her wishes began to
take effect again, and a quarter of beef descended with terrific
momentum upon the top of the little orphan's head."

S.E.--How did the editor of _The Reasonable Virtues_ like that quarter
of beef?

P.C.--Oh, he swallowed it like a little man, and stuck in a few dressed