"Oh, I don't—"
"No one but a loafer or a sponge would do what I've done tonight," he persisted, "but I came here because I like you little chaps so well—and—because—I was so infernally hungry. I hadn't eaten since last night, you know, and when I heard about the oysters and coffee, I just couldn't refuse, and—I came."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, "I'm sorry, Harry! I like you awfully!"
I gave him my hand and, hearing the voices of Mr. Watlin and Tony, he hurried to the street.
I stumbled sleepily into the kitchen.
"Och, do go to bed, Masther John!" exclaimed Mary Ellen, "you're as white as a cloth! Well, if you're sick tomorrow, ye must jist grin an' bear it! An' sure we have had a day of it, haven't we? Thim oysters was the clane thing!"
She followed us to the foot of the stairs with a lamp. The shadows of the bannisters raced up the wall ahead of us, as she moved away. The Seraph gripped the back of my blouse. We stopped at the door of Mrs. Handsomebody's bedroom. Like Mrs. Handsomebody, it towered above us, pale and forbidding.
"I dare you," said Angel, "to open it and stick your head in."
[154]
