” “But you thought you could forget him. I do not love any one. Saviour's Stairs. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. There was just a minute’s hesitation before they gave her a room. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. He used to call it his fire-escape—ha! ha! I've often used the ladder for my own convenience, but I never expected to turn it to such good account. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. "Ninny! What did we know about Father, except when he was around the house? But where is the girl? She said something about having tea with us.
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