The Brother Clerks; A Tale of New-Orleans.

Guly, as if to make sure he was there.

The singular appearance of the dwarf, and the ready and gentle assistance rendered him by Guly, had attracted considerable attention, from those who yet lingered over their viands; and when Guly took his seat, a young exquisite, who occupied a table just at his left, and who had been obliged to use two of his fingers to part his glossy moustache, while he passed in his food with his other hand, now turned round, and regarded him with an impertinent stare.

'I say, Mistar, is that gentleman with crutches yondaw, a brothaw of yours?'

'By the laws of humanity he is, sir.'

'Awr! I'm glad to find there's no closaw tie, so I can express my opinion of him. He is a scamp, sah!'

'Indeed! why so?'

'Because he is, sah!'

'You know him?'

'Perfectly well!'

'And he is a scamp?'

'If he's no relation of yours, yes, sah.'

'Does he tipple?'

'Not zat I know, sah!'

'Steal?'

'No, sah!'

'Meddle with other people's affairs?'

'Yes, sah! zat is, every day he puts his disgwusting digits on my spotless cassimeres, and asks for money!'

'You of course grant his request?'

'Not I, sah! I feel always like touching the twip of me pwatent leather gaitaw just beneath the lowermost extreme of his spinal column, and elevating his dangling supporters a few feet in the air, before pwopelling him into the nearest guttaw.'

'A very unpleasant feeling, most certainly.'

'Vewy true, sah!'

'Yes, sah, especially when you know your stwaps are too tight to admit of any such use of your unmentionable members,' squeaked the dwarf, mockingly, who had sat unmoved within hearing distance of the whole conversation.

A roar of laughter followed this speech, through which the dandy sat frowning darkly. When it ceased, he sprang near the dwarf, shouting:

'You mean to insult me, do you, eh?'

'Hope you wouldn't notice such a scamp as me, sah!' squeaked the dwarf in answer.

'I will pwummel your cwooked legs, sah!'

'Wipe that off of your own, sah, first,' cried the other, dexterously turning a fresh plate of bean soup over the dandy's 'spwotless cassimeres.'

Another roar of laughter followed this act, amid which the exquisite made his exit with his pocket hankerchief spread over his lap, swearing he would 'go stwaight and sue for dwamages,' that he was 'scalded to death by the dem beggar, and he would have revenge for his ruined trousers, be gar!'

Guly, after assisting his helpless friend to his crutches and a firm standing, was about to leave; but the dwarf detained him by twitching the skirt of his coat, then exclaimed:

'Hih, hih! monsieur, I lost my bean soup but I saved my head, hih! hih! bean, soup's good, but 'twas spilt in a glorious cause; paid for monsieur?'

This last question was put in such a comic manner, with that one eye tipped up towards him, that Guly could not repress a smile; but he cordially satisfied him on that point, feeling still able, in spite of his diminished salary, to pay for a beggar's dinner, which is more than many, with their well filled purses, can make themselves afford to do.

Freeing himself from the companionship of his singular friend, Guly hurried away to the store; with every light footfall, and each thrilling heart-throb, whispering to himself one word, which fell upon his thoughts in the midst of the crowd and din through which he hastened, like the tinkling music of a waterfall in the midst of a broad desert, 'Blanche! Blanche!'

CHAPTER XXIII.

Pure thoughts are angel visitants! be such
The frequent inmates of thy guileless breast;
They hallow all things by their sacred touch,
And ope the portals of the land of rest.

At eight o'clock precisely, Wilkins stepped down from his desk, gave orders to have the store closed, and told Guly he would be ready in one moment. The clerks, most of them, dropped the curtain of linen over the goods, and went out, not sleeping in the store and having no pass key. While Jeff was putting up the shutters, Guly went to Arthur and told him he was going out to see one of Wilkins' friends a little while, but would be back soon, and begged him to go to bed and try to sleep that haggard look from his face.

'Yes,' Arthur said, he had no doubt but he needed rest and would try to gain it; and shaking hands they parted. Wilkins seemed waiting for the two or three clerks who yet remained, to go away before he left, but as he stood drawing on his gloves, Quirk came up and whispered something in his ear which Guly did not hear, but to which Wilkins answered aloud, saying: 'I can't leave the key with you, but I'll lock you in.'

'And how long will you be gone?'

'Only an hour or two.'

'All right, then.'

Wilkins and Guly went out and locked the door, leaving the young men in there. They walked on, through the busy streets thronged with pleasure seekers, some on foot, some riding, all gaily dressed and full apparently of bright anticipations and buoyant life. Sometimes a lamp gleam would fall through the plate-glass windows of some princely structure, where light forms of beauty, attired in fashion's garb, were flitting through the mazy dance or listening to music's enrapturing strain. As Guly walked on, noting the panorama of life which passed by him, he fell into a fit of musing from which he was unable to rouse himself, until they turned into another street, and Wilkins remarked quietly that it was the one in which Blanche lived. Then his whole attention was awakened, and there was no more musing, no more lack of conversation till they paused to rap at the door of the little house where Blanche lived. She opened it herself, and held out a hand to each of the new comers.

'I am so happy to see you,' said she earnestly, as she permitted them to enter. 'Guly, this is grandpapa, you will soon be acquainted with him, for we have been talking about you all day, and I have been describing you to him, so that he might know how you looked, and could know just how you would always act when I was giving you my work for sale, and all that.'

The old gentleman was very venerable in appearance, and sat in a large stuffed chair with his grey locks floating over his shoulders, and his hands clasped upon a staff he held before him. His sightless orbs were turned in the direction whence came his good child's voice, and when she mentioned Guly's name he held out one trembling hand, and expressed, in a feeble, faltering tone, his pleasure at 'seeing' them.

Guly took the extended hand, shook it cordially, and sat down near the old gentleman and entered into a brisk conversation with him, leaving Blanche to be entertained by, and to entertain, Wilkins.

'She called you Guly, this child of mine,' said the old man, suddenly breaking a slight pause which had occured in the conversation. 'Blanche, my love, when will you ever learn to be polite?'