"And why," said I, "didn't you knock at No. 12?"
"So I did," said Boots; "I knocked fit to wake the dead, and, as there warn't no answer, I didn't like to wake the living; I didn't knock no more, 'specially as Sarah——"
"What of Sarah?" I asked in haste.
"—'Specially as Sarah was going by at the time, and told me not to disturb you, for she knowd you had been uneasy in the night, and wanted a rest in the morning."
"I waited for no further explanation, but rushed to my room, and dressed myself as fast as I could, casting many a rueful glance on my dilapidated countenance, and many a reflection equally rueful on the adventures of the night.
My place was lost, and the money I paid for it; that was certain: but going to Edinburgh was indispensable. I proceeded, therefore, to book myself again; and, on doing so, found Joe Grabble in the coffee-room talking to Sarah. He had returned, like Paul Pry, in quest of his umbrella, or something else he had forgotten the night before, and I arrived just in time to hear him ask if I was off. The reply was by no means flattering to my vanity.
"I do not know nothink about him," said the indignant damsel, "except that, whether he's off or on, he's a nasty old willin."
"Hey-day, Peter!" exclaimed Joe. "So you are not gone? What is this Sarah says about you?"
"May I explain," said I, approaching her with a bow, "fair Sarah?"