The sudden light of publicity that had fallen upon the Cant-Pass-It
saloon sent a glow over that entire region of Billy-goat Hill.
Everybody had something to talk about, and everybody talked, except
Chick.

Phineas Flathers appointed himself headquarters for information, and
devoted himself exclusively to arguing about the matter. Myrtella, his
twin sister, who for fifteen years had presided over innumerable
cooking ranges throughout the city, almost lost her new place through
her interest in the affair.

The one subject upon which Myrtella Flathers considered herself a
connoisseur was murder. In sundry third floors back, she had for years
followed the current casualties with burning interest. Realism,
romance, intrigue, adventure, she found them all, in these grim
recitals of daily crime.

Myrtella and Phineas Flathers had been cast into the sea of life at an
early age to sink or swim as they saw fit. Myrtella had survived by
combating the waves, while Phineas adopted the less arduous expedient
of floating.

To him work appeared a wholly artificial and abnormal action, self-
imposed and unnecessary. The stage of life presented so many
opportunities for him to exercise his histrionic ability, that the
idea of settling down to a routine of labor seemed a waste of talent.
With far-reaching discernment he had early perceived that a straight
part was not for him.