“I caught a toper alone, over his magnum of port,” said a very dark Shadow; “and didn’t I give it him! I made delirium tremens first; and then I settled into a funeral, passing slowly along the length of the opposite wall. I gave him plenty of plumes and mourning coaches. And then I gave him a funeral service, but I could not manage to make the surplice white, which was all the better for such a sinner. The wretch stared till his face passed from purple to grey, and actually left his fifth glass only, unfinished, and took refuge with his wife and children in the drawing-room, much to their surprise. I believe he actually drank a cup of tea; and although I have often looked in since, I have never caught him again, drinking alone at least.”
“But does he drink less? Have you done him any good?”
“I hope so; but I am sorry to say I can’t feel sure about it.”
“Humph! Humph! Humph!” grunted various shadow throats.
“I had such fun once!” cried another. “I made such game of a young clergyman!”
“You have no right to make game of anyone.”
“Oh yes, I have—when it is for his good. He used to study his sermons—where do you think?”
“In his study, of course. Where else should it be?”
“Yes and no. Guess again.”
“Out amongst the faces in the streets.”
“Guess again.”