He was so tired that he scarcely could drag one leg after the other, and seeing a door standing half open, he determined to enter and throw himself on the mercy of the inmates.
Over the door was a lamp, and on the door a brass plate, upon which was engraved, "Rev. C. Floyd, Academy for Young Gentlemen."
In the hallway he met an elderly lady, who had no sooner seen him that she began to cry out at the top of her voice:
"Thieves! murder! burglars! help!"
A gentleman of clerical appearance came out of a room, and behind him were a dozen or more boys.
These he waved back with his hand, saying:
"No excitement, if you please, young gentlemen. Stay where you are."
The boys hesitated on the threshold, looking over one another's shoulders, those in the rear standing on tiptoe.
"Now, my dear," commenced the clerical-looking gentleman, who was the Rev. C. Floyd himself, "what is the matter?"
"A stranger in the house," replied Mrs. Floyd.