“Will you help me?” he asked. ’ His friend held it out of the way. There’s no logic in these things. I’m behaving shockingly, I know. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. "Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. F. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance.
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