MAD NANCE.

Mr. Galloway was in his office. Mr. Galloway was fuming and fretting at
the non-arrival of his clerk, Mr. Jenkins. Mr. Jenkins was a punctual
man; in fact, more than punctual: his proper time for arriving at the
office was half-past nine; but the cathedral clock had rarely struck
the quarter-past before Mr. Jenkins would be at his post. Almost any
other morning it would not have mattered a straw to Mr. Galloway
whether Jenkins was a little after or a little before his time; but on
this particular morning he had especial need of him, and had come
himself to the office unusually early.

One-two, three-four! chimed the quarters of the cathedral. "There it
goes--half-past nine!" ejaculated Mr. Galloway. "What _does_ Jenkins
mean by it? He knew he was wanted early."

A sharp knock at the office door, and there entered a little dark
woman, in a black bonnet and a beard. She was Mr. Jenkins's better
half, and had the reputation for being considerably the grey mare.

"Good morning, Mr. Galloway. A pretty kettle of fish, this is!"

"What's the matter now?" asked Mr. Galloway, surprised at the address.
"Where's Jenkins?"

"Jenkins is in bed with his head plastered up. He's the greatest booby
living, and would positively have come here all the same, but I told
him I'd strap him down with cords if he attempted it. A pretty object