"
"Nonsense," rejoined Marcus Wilkeson. "There's no curiosity in my
composition."
And yet, when his two companions stood at the window of the little back
parlor, pressing their noses against the glass, and looking out, he
could not resist the temptation to join them, although he thought
proper to punch them in the ribs, and call them a pair of inquisitive
puppies, by way of showing how much he was superior to the great human
infirmity.
CHAPTER III.
PEEPS.
The uniform row of houses on the other side of a dead waste of snow, to
which the attention of the three friends was ardently directed,
promised, at first sight, a poor return of instruction and
entertainment. The rear view presented one dull stretch of bricks
irregularly set even in those houses which displayed imposing fronts of
brown stone. The blinds were of a faded green color, and broken. The
stoops, the doors opening on them, and the steps leading down to the
dirty, sodden snow, had a generic look of cheapness and frailty.
"Whatever the censorious critic might say of the front, he could not
charge the rear with false pretences; for there was apparent, all over
it, an utter indifference to the opinions of mankind.
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