"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm very sorry to hear that.
How long may I stay?"

"Only till the mutton's done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
brown."

Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen and sat himself
down on the hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the
chimney, for it was a great deal too high for the roof.

"You'll soon dry there, sir," said Gluck, and sat down again to
turn the mutton. But the old gentleman did NOT dry there, but
went on drip, drip, dripping among the cinders, and the fire
fizzed and sputtered and began to look very black and
uncomfortable. Never was such a cloak; every fold in it ran like
a gutter.

"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck at length, after watching the
water spreading in long, quicksilver-like streams over the floor
for a quarter of an hour; "mayn't I take your cloak?"

"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.

"Your cap, sir?"

"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman rather
gruffly.

"But--sir--I'm very sorry," said Gluck hesitatingly, "but--
really, sir--you're--putting the fire out."