Street, and a little shop flourishing cheerfully, the cheerful sign of

a teapot, and exhibiting a brilliant array of tobaccos, sweets, and

children's toys in the window, struck his fancy. A neat, bright-eyed

little old lady made him welcome, and he was presently supping

sumptuously on sausages and tea, with a visitors' book full of the most

humorous and flattering remarks about the little old lady, in verse and

prose, propped up against his teapot as he ate. Regular good some of

the jokes were, and rhymes that read well--even with your mouth full

of sausage. Mr. Hoopdriver formed a vague idea of drawing

"something"--for his judgment on the little old lady was already formed.

He pictured the little old lady discovering it afterwards--"My gracious!

One of them Punch men," she would say. The room had a curtained recess

and a chest of drawers, for presently it was to be his bedroom, and the

day part of it was decorated with framed Oddfellows' certificates and

giltbacked books and portraits, and kettle-holders, and all kinds of

beautiful things made out of wool; very comfortable it was indeed. The

window was lead framed and diamond paned, and through it one saw the

corner of the vicarage and a pleasant hill crest, in dusky silhouette

against the twilight sky. And after the sausages had ceased to be, he

lit a Red Herring cigarette and went swaggering out into the twilight

street. All shadowy blue between its dark brick houses, was the street,

with a bright yellow window here and there and splashes of green and red

where the chemist's illumination fell across the road.

The Wheels of Chance