'When a man enters a stranger's house, it is but proper to knock,' said Harson, sharply.
'Did you want your house battered about your ears?' inquired the stranger; 'for I did knock, until I was afraid it might come to that. Perhaps you're deaf, old gentleman; if so, I'm sorry for you; but as for your d—d dog, I wish he was dumb. I can scarcely hear myself speak for him.'
This explanation cleared from Harson's face every trace of anger; and silencing the dog, he said: 'I did not hear you; and yet I am not deaf.'
'Well, I made noise enough,' said the other. 'Is your name Henry Harson?'
Harson answered in the affirmative.
The stranger took off his hat and stood it on a chair; after which, he thrust his hand in his pocket and pulled out a letter. 'That's not it,' said he, throwing it in his hat; 'nor that,' continued he, drawing out a handkerchief, which he rolled in a very tight ball, and transferred to another pocket.
'I've got a letter somewhere, that I know. It must belong to the mole family, for I put it uppermost, and it's burrowed to the very bottom; d—d if it hasn't! Ah! here it is,' said he, after a violent struggle, bringing up both a letter and a snuff-box. The former, he handed to Harson, and the latter he opened, and after applying each nostril sideways to its contents, took a pinch between his fingers, returned the box to his pocket, and seating himself snuffed deliberately, all the while eyeing the breakfast-table, with a fixed, steady, immovable stare.
The thread-bare, poverty-stricken look and hungry eye of his visitor was not lost on Harson, who, before opening the letter, glanced at the table and at the stranger, and then said: 'It's early; perhaps you have not yet breakfasted, Mr., Mr., Mr ——'
'Kornicker,' said the stranger.
'Kornicker, Mr. Kornicker. If so, make yourself at home and help yourself while I look over this letter; no ceremony. I use none with you. Use none with me.'