torted into grotesque ferocity. Finally, assuming the attitude of a juggler, he made an attempt to balance the poker perpendicularly upon his nose, until it fell with a crash, just missing the ornaments on the mantelpiece. All this time Mrs. Byass shrieked with laughter, with difficulty keeping her chair.
"Oh, Sam," she panted forth, her handkerchief at her eyes, "what a fool you are! Do stop, or you'll kill me!"
Vastly gratified, Samuel advanced with ludicrous gestures towards the visitor, held out his hand, and said with affected nasality, "How do you do, sir? It's some time since I had the pleasure of seeing you, sir. I hope you have been pretty tolerable."
"Isn't he a fool, Mr. Kirkwood?" cried the delighted wife. "Do just give him a smack on the side of the head, to please me! Sam, go an wash, an' we'll have supper. What do you mean by being so late to-night?"
"Where's the infant?" asked Mr. Byass, thrusting his hands into his waistcoat pockets and peering about the room. "Bring forth
