Doors were open at 61/2. Some
time previous to that hour, the stairs leading from the street door to
the hall were lined with the lads of the village, who amused themselves
with making jocular remarks about "the man in the cage there" (meaning
Marcus), and "t'other man at the door, whose shirt was out of jail"
(meaning Tiffles). Marcus smiled grimly at his assailants through the
small pigeon hole; and Tiffles, who felt reckless in the sure view of a
failure, laughed heartily at them, returned jokes as bad as they sent,
but, in the height of his humor, begged them distinctly to understand
that they could not get In without paying. At which the juvenile chorus
sarcastically replied, "P'r'aps not;" "Mebbe you're right," "You'll have
to stop up the keyhole, Mister;" "Mind I don't get down the
chimbley," &c., &c.
At precisely forty-seven minutes past six, the first man made his
appearance. He was a thick-set, pompous individual, with a gold-headed
cane and gold spectacles, and climbed up the stairs with dignity and
difficulty. He was followed by a pale little woman, four small children,
and a stout, red-haired nurse, bearing in her arms a baby, which was
laboring under an attack of the intermittent squalls.
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