handkerchief. Whereupon the tall girl averted her face, pulled down the
curtain, and eclipsed herself.

Wilkeson and Overtop laughed, and, with a common impulse, punched
Maltboy triumphantly in the ribs--a friendly salute that was always
vastly amusing to that gentleman.

"Be it understood, at this stage of affairs," said Marcus, solemnly,
"that I reject the Overtop theory, and wash my hands of all
responsibility for Maltboy's misdeeds.--Hallo! There he is again."

"Who? Where?" exclaimed his two friends.

"In the house nearly opposite--the one with the grape arbor. Isn't he a
fine old fellow?"

Overtop and Maltboy looked, and there saw, sitting at a window, and
placidly gazing out of it, an old gentleman with long and thick white
hair, a ruddy face, a white neckcloth, and a large projecting shirt
frill--which were all the peculiarities of person and dress that could
be distinctly made out. He was smoking a long pipe, and placidly rocking
himself to and fro. His appearance, through the two windows, was that
of a finely preserved relic of a past generation,

"He always has a long pipe in his mouth, and looks benignantly into the
open air," said Wilkeson,

"So even _you_ are not wholly devoid of curiosity, and do take some
interest in the people on our block," remarked Matthew Maltboy,