“Asleep, or nearly,” answer’d Mary—
“Who hang’d hersel’ in her gar-ters, All for the love o’ man—”
“—Anon, anon, master: wait only till I get the kettle on the boil.”
The hatch was slipp’d to again. I stood up and made a step toward the girl.
“How many are they?” I ask’d, jerking a finger in the direction of the parlor.
“A dozen all but one.”
“Where is the foreign guests’ room?”
“Left hand, on the first landing.”
“The staircase?”
“Just outside the door.”