from waking Livy, and proceeded to dress in the pitch dark. Slowly but

surely I got on garment after garment--all down to one sock; I had one

slipper on and the other in my hand. Well, on my hands and knees I crept

softly around, pawing and feeling and scooping along the carpet, and

among chair-legs for that missing sock; I kept that up; and still kept

it up and kept it up. At first I only said to myself, "Blame that sock,"

but that soon ceased to answer; my expletives grew steadily stronger and

stronger,--and at last, when I found I was lost, I had to sit flat down

on the floor and take hold of something to keep from lifting the roof

off with the profane explosion that was trying to get out of me. I could

see the dim blur of the window, but of course it was in the wrong

place and could give me no information as to where I was. But I had

one comfort--I had not waked Livy; I believed I could find that sock in

silence if the night lasted long enough. So I started again and softly

pawed all over the place,--and sure enough at the end of half an hour I

laid my hand on the missing article. I rose joyfully up and butted the

wash-bowl and pitcher off the stand and simply raised----so to speak.

Livy screamed, then said, "Who is that? what is the matter?" I said

There ain't anything the matter--I'm hunting for my sock." She said,

Are you hunting for it with a club?"

I went in the parlor and lit the lamp, and gradually the fury subsided

and the ridiculous features of the thing began to suggest themselves.

So I lay on the sofa, with note-book and pencil, and transferred the

adventure to our big room in the hotel at Heilbronn, and got it on paper

a good deal to my satisfaction.

499

The Letters Of Mark Twain, Complete