As he spoke, he endeavoured to take from the hands of one of the party a piece of chip, with which he was industriously engaged in streaking the face of Mr. Stevens with lime, "Let me alone, Morton—let me alone; I'm making a white man of him, I'm going to make him a glorious fellow-citizen, and have him run for Congress. Let me alone, I say."
Mr. Morton was able, however, after some persuasion, to induce the young men to depart; and as his home lay in a direction opposite to theirs, he said to Mr. Stevens, "Come on, old fellow, I'll protect you."
As soon as they were out of hearing of the others, Mr. Stevens exclaimed,
"Don't you know me, Morton?"
Mr. Morton started back with surprise, and looked at his companion in a bewildered manner, then exclaimed, "No, I'll be hanged if I do. Who the devil are you?"
"I'm Stevens; you know me."
"Indeed I don't. Who's Stevens?"
"You don't know me! why, I'm George Stevens, the lawyer."
Mr. Morton thought that he now recognized the voice, and as they were passing under the lamp at the time, Mr. Stevens said to him, "Put your finger on my face, and you will soon see it is only tar." Mr. Morton did as he was desired, and found his finger smeared with the sticky article.
"What on earth have you been doing with yourself?" he asked, with great surprise; "what is all this masquerading for?"
Mr. Stevens hereupon related his visit at Whitticar's, and detailed the events that had subsequently occurred.