The Little-Go. 633 



morning ; which, being interpreted, signifieth your fire's always 

 a-light a most Samaritanish propensity, and right opportune for the 

 brewing" of negus on a November night. Botheration. I say, 

 BaughT Puff! puff! What visitations of smoke do come down 

 this old chimney of yours ; and hark how the wind rattles about our 

 heads and under our feet too. Why, your carpet's alive, man ! See 



how it dances all along the door-sill ! D n it, M , you can't 



live the term through in these aid crazy-roofed, creak-boarded rooms. 

 The walls are no better than cane battledores to keep old Boreas 

 out." 



" You said something," interrupted M , who had by this time 



subsided into the tolerating indifference of manner so natural to one 

 accustomed to the pertinacious presence of a good-tempered bore, 

 " something about the Little-go lists of to-morrow." 



" You 're first," repeated D'Aubeny. 



M 's lip quivered an instant, and his cheeks grew still paler, if 



possible, than before. He regained his self-possession with an effort. 

 " Is the coffee ready ?" 



" No ; for your faggots are wet, and the bellows, shot through and 

 through with yesterday's practice, will not give a breath of wind. 

 That was a splendid hit of mine right through the air-hole in" the 

 centre, and clean out at t'other side," said D , eyeing the muti- 

 lated machine with unequivocal satisfaction. " What will you bet I 

 don't stop the muzzle with a ball once out of three ? Will you bet ? 

 Here, here are the pistols. Cleaned too, by G , since last we used 

 them ! 



" Hold ! hold !'* cried M , at the same time seizing D.'s arm, 



and snatching with the other hand the weapons from his grasp, 

 " They are loaded !" M.'s frame was trembling all over ; his hands 

 shook with excitement, and their palsied tremor communicated the 

 convulsion to the electrified nerves of his startled friend. 



" What in the name of the Eumenides are you quaking at, all of a 

 start ? Why, what in the devil's name makes you funk a pistol so ?" 



" 'Tis you who are nervous," replied M , after a pause relaxing 



his grasp, and ill endeavouring to conceal in an unnatural laugh the 

 perturbation under which he laboured. 



'* My haste to prevent mischief alarmed you. Do you not see they 

 are loaded and cocked ?'' and his voice faltered, and the weapons vi- 

 brated in his hand as he held them close to the lighted candle for in- 

 spection. 



D'Aubeny indulged in immoderate exclamations of merriment 

 at his friend's expense, and at length fell into a truly hysterical fit of 

 laughter, bellowing out in the intervals *' loaded and cocked!" He 

 threw himself on the ground, the better to indulge in the transport of 

 fun which poor M.'s panic at a loaded pistol had afforded him ; and 

 at last, unable to contain his risibility, or compose his thoughts, that 

 would ever, in spite of his prevention, recur to the attitude and terri- 

 fied demeanour of the alarmist M , with his fists thrust into his 



shaking ribs, he fairly laughed himself out of the room, down the stair- 

 case, across the quadrangle, and must have lost not the thread of his 

 ideas the livelong night, since his scout affirmed he woke him the next 

 morning with a lurking chuckle upon his countenance. 



