“So you prefer Cane to A bell, do you?” he said—and began chuckling and coughing at a great rate.
My friend winked at me.
“You’re here still, Old Joe, I see,” he said to the old man.
“Yes, yes—and it’s very odd, considering how often I’ve bolted, nights.”
He then threw open the double gates for us to ride through.
“Now,” said the old man, as he pulled the gates after us, “you’ve had a long journey.”
“Why, how is that, Old Joe?” said my friend.
“Don’t you see?” he answered; “there’s the East hinges on the one side of the gate, and there’s the West hinges on t’other side—haw! haw! haw!”
We had no sooner got into the yard than a feeble little gentleman, with a remarkably bright eye, came up to us, looking very serious, as if something had happened.
“The town has entered a complaint against the Asylum as a gambling establishment,” he said to my friend, the Director.