the dubious impression of either needing shaving
very badly, or having egg-stains on his chin.

"You're the gentleman in Number II, I believe?
Why, Mr. McKinney, are you ill?"

He nodded confusedly.

"Mr. McKinney is your name, I think," she
queried, with a pretty elevation of the eyebrows.

"Yes, ma'am," said John rather abjectly. "You
see, ma'am--But I beg pardon," he went on
stammeringly, and with a very awkward bow--"I beg
pardon, but I am addressing--ah--the--ah--the--"

"You are addressing the new landlady," she
interpolated pleasantly. "Mrs. Miller is my name. I
think we should be friends, Mr. McKinney, since I
hear that you are one of the oldest patrons of the
house."

"Thank you--thank you!" said John, completely
embarrassed. "Yes, indeed!--ha, ha. Oh, yes--
yes--really, we must be quite old friends, I assure
you, Mrs.--Mrs.--"

"Mrs. Miller," smilingly prompted the little
woman.