"Bedad, and sure I feel myself itching all over alriddy," broke in Mr. Jollytoast, assuming an Irish brogue, and scratching himself.
"Order, order! Chair, chair!" called out other guests.
"Silence! gentlemen," said Mr. Oldstone, with authority, thumping on the table; "the story is just about to commence."
"The performance is just a-goin' to begin," broke in the incorrigible little comedian, assuming the air of a showman. "Valk up, valk up, ladies and gentlemen."
"Hush! Mr. Jollytoast," said the antiquary. "Hush! gentlemen, for the 'Phantom Flea.'"
"Tremulous music, lights half down," muttered the tragedian; but he was instantly silenced by the chairman.
Mr. Oldstone gave one final authoritative thump on the table, and glanced severely at all the guests. The silence that ensued was awful, while Mr. Hardcase, after a sip at his glass and a puff at his long churchwarden, began his story in the following manner:
