“That’s it!” says Tony. “Nothing has been the matter. But here have I been stewing and fuming in this jolly old crib till I have had the horrors falling on me as thick as hail. There’s a blessed-looking candle!” says Tony, pointing to the heavily burning taper on his table with a great cabbage head and a long winding-sheet.
“That’s easily improved,” Mr. Guppy observes as he takes the snuffers in hand.
“ Is it?” returns his friend. “Not so easily as you think. It has been smouldering like that ever since it was lighted.”
“Why, what’s the matter with you, Tony?” inquires Mr. Guppy, looking at him, snuffers in hand, as he sits down with his elbow on the table.
“William Guppy,” replies the other, “I am in the Downs. It’s this unbearably dull, suicidal room—and old Boguey downstairs, I suppose.” Mr. Weevle