always."

Mr. Hatchard affected not to hear, and, lighting his pipe, listened fer
some time to the hum of conversation between his wife and Mr. Sadler
below. With an expression of resignation on his face that was almost
saintly he knocked out his pipe at last and went to bed.

Half an hour passed, and he was still awake. His wife's voice had
ceased, but the gruff tones of Mr. Sadler were still audible. Then he
sat up in bed and listened, as a faint cry of alarm and the sound of
somebody rushing upstairs fell on his ears. The next moment the door of
his room burst open, and a wild figure, stumbling in the darkness, rushed
over to the bed and clasped him in its arms.

"Help!" gasped his wile's voice. "Oh, Alfred! Alfred!"

"Ma'am!" said Mr. Hatchard in a prim voice, as he struggled in vain to
free himself.

"I'm so--so--fr-frightened!" sobbed Mrs. Hatchard.

"That's no reason for coming into a lodger's room and throwing your arms
round his neck," said her husband, severely.

"Don't be stu-stu-stupid," gasped Mrs. Hatchard. "He--he's sitting
downstairs in my room with a paper cap on his head and a fire-shovel in
his hand, and he--he says he's the--the Emperor of China."

"He? Who?" inquired her husband.