standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible velocity. 

 "Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin and turning to Gluck with a fierce frown. 

 "I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck in great terror. 

 "How did he get in?" roared Schwartz. 

 "My dear brother," said Gluck deprecatingly, "he was so VERY wet!" 

 The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head, but, at the instant, the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap than it flew out of Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the corner at the further end of the room. 

 "Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him. "What's your business?" snarled Hans. 

 "I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began very modestly, "and I saw your fire through the window and begged shelter for a quarter of an hour." 

 "Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz.  "We've quite enough water in our kitchen without making it a drying house." 

 "It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my gray hairs."  They hung down to his shoulders, as I told you before. 

 "Aye!" said Hans; "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!" 

 "I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before I go?" 

 "Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with our bread but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?" 

 "Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans sneeringly. "Out with you!" 

 "A little bit," said the old gentleman. 

 "Be off!" said Schwartz. 

 "Pray, gentlemen." 

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