"It is all very well to say take them away," replied Manasseh, with a touch of resentment, "but what am I to take them in?"

"Oh—ah—yes! There must be a sack somewhere—"

"And do you think I would carry them away in a sack? Would you have me look like an old clo' man? I must have a box. I see several in the box-room."

"Very well," said Grobstock resignedly. "If there's an empty one you may have it."

Manasseh laid his stick on the dressing-table and carefully examined the boxes, some of which were carelessly open,[35] while every lock had a key sticking in it. They had travelled far and wide with Grobstock, who invariably combined pleasure with business.

[35]

"MANASSEH CAREFULLY EXAMINED THE BOXES."

"There is none quite empty," announced the Schnorrer, "but in this one there are only a few trifles—a pair of galligaskins and such like—so that if you make me a present of them the box will be empty, so far as you are concerned."

"All right," said Grobstock, and actually laughed. The nearer the departure of the Schnorrer, the higher his spirits rose.

Manasseh dragged the box towards the bed, and then for[36] the first time since his return from the under-regions, surveyed the medley of garments upon it.

[36]

The light-hearted philanthropist, watching his face, saw it instantly change to darkness, like a tropical landscape. His own face grew white. The Schnorrer uttered an inarticulate cry, and turned a strange, questioning glance upon his patron.

"What is it now?" faltered Grobstock.

"I miss a pair of pantaloons!"

"'I MISS A PAIR OF PANTALOONS!' HE SHRIEKED."

Grobstock grew whiter. "Nonsense! nonsense!" he muttered.

"I—miss—a—pair—of—pantaloons!" reiterated the Schnorrer deliberately.

"Oh, no—you have all I can spare there," said Grobstock uneasily. The Schnorrer hastily turned over the heap.

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