Accordingly he called for them, and on the way he told them all about Pudd’nhead Wilson, in order that they might get a favorable impression of him in advance and be prepared to like him.  This scheme succeeded—­the favorable impression was achieved.  Later it was confirmed and solidified when Wilson proposed that out of courtesy to the strangers the usual topics be put aside and the hour be devoted to conversation upon ordinary subjects and the cultivation of friendly relations and good-fellowship—­a proposition which was put to vote and carried.

The hour passed quickly away in lively talk, and when it was ended, the lonesome and neglected Wilson was richer by two friends than he had been when it began.  He invited the twins to look in at his lodgings presently, after disposing of an intervening engagement, and they accepted with pleasure.

Toward the middle of the evening, they found themselves on the road to his house.  Pudd’nhead was at home waiting for them and putting in his time puzzling over a thing which had come under his notice that morning.  The matter was this:  He happened to be up very early—­at dawn, in fact; and he crossed the hall, which divided his cottage through the center, and entered a room to get something there.  The window of the room had no curtains, for that side of the house had long been unoccupied, and through this window he caught sight of something which surprised and interested him.  It was a young woman—­a young woman where properly no young woman belonged; for she was in Judge Driscoll’s house, and in the bedroom over the judge’s private study or sitting room.  This was young Tom Driscoll’s bedroom.  He and the judge, the judge’s widowed sister Mrs. Pratt, and three Negro servants were the only people who belonged in the house.  Who, then, might this young lady be?  The two houses were separated by an ordinary yard, with a low fence running back through its middle from the street in front to the lane in the rear.  The distance was not great, and Wilson was able to see the girl very well, the window shades of the room she was in being up, and the window also.  The girl had on a neat and trim summer dress, patterned in broad stripes of pink and white, and her bonnet was equipped with a pink veil.  She was practicing steps, gaits and attitudes, apparently; she was doing the thing gracefully, and was very much absorbed in her work.  Who could she be, and how came she to be in young Tom Driscoll’s room?

Wilson had quickly chosen a position from which he could watch the girl without running much risk of being seen by her, and he remained there hoping she would raise her veil and betray her face.  But she disappointed him.  After a matter of twenty minutes she disappeared and although he stayed at his post half an hour longer, she came no more.