his pocket when he went to bed and woke without a farthing, and so on.
Everybody save myself was mulet of something. At length some rumors of
Tim's former propensities got abroad; suspicion was excited; my friend
Delany was rigidly watched, and some very dubious circumstances attached to
the way he spent his evenings.

"My brother officers called upon me about the matter, and although nothing
had transpired like proof, I sent for Tim, and opened my mind on the
subject.

"You may talk of the look of conscious innocence, but I defy you to
conceive anything finer than the stare of offended honor Tim gave me as I
began.

"'They say it's me, Doctor,' said he, 'do they? And you,--you believe them.
You allow them to revile me that way? Well, well, the world is come to a
pretty pass, anyhow! Now, let me ask your honor a few questions? How many
shirts had yourself when I entered your service? Two, and one was more like
a fishing net! And how many have ye now? Eighteen; ay, eighteen bran new
cambrie ones,--devil a hole in one of them! How many pair of stockings had
you? Three and an odd one. You have two dozen this minute. How many pocket
handkerchiefs? One,--devil a more! You could only blow your nose two days
in the week, and now you may every hour of the twenty-four! And as to
the trilling articles of small value, snuff-boxes, gloves, bootjacks,
nightcaps, and--'

"'Stop, Tim, that's enough--'

"'No, sir, it is not,' said Tim, drawing himself up to his full height;
'you have wounded my feelings in a way I can't forget. It is impossible