"That's so. Don't be rash, John," said Amidon.

It was not especially funny, but since Amidon intended it to be, they
all obligingly laughed, except Tappan, who set himself with a grunt
in the chair and had the white sheet of which Rosenstein had been
denuded tied around his neck.

Rosenstein, who was a lean man, with a much-lined face, cast a glance
at himself in the looking-glass, and heaved an odd sigh as he turned
away to get his hat.

"You don't seem to be much stuck on your looks, old man," remarked
Amidon.

Rosenstein cast a perfectly good-humored but rather melancholy look
at Amidon. "No; I never was," he replied, soberly. "Can't remember
when I wouldn't have preferred to meet some other fellow in the
looking-glass. It's such an awful thing, the intimacy with himself
that's forced on a man when he comes into this world."

"That's so," assented Amidon, rather stupidly, but he was not to be
abashed with the other man's metaphysics. Rosenstein did credit to
his German ancestry at times, and was then in deep waters for his
village acquaintances.

"Who would you ruther meet in the lookin'-glass than yerself?"
pursued Amidon.

"Not you," replied Rosenstein, with unexpected repartee, and was
going out amid a chorus of glee at Amidon's discomfiture when another