What could the reason for this dislike possibly be?  Certainly not his familiar ascent to her room, on the previous day.  Could it have been because she did not like him in his fine clothes?  Was this latter possible?  It might be.

“I’ll go to Mr. O’Brallaghan’s and get my old suit—­he has not sent them yet,” said Verty, aloud; “then I’ll go and see Redbud just as she used to see me in old times, at Apple Orchard, when we were—­ah!—­so happy!”

The “ah” above, represents a very deep sigh, which issued from Verty’s breast, as he went along with the dignified Longears at his heels.  Longears never left his master, unless he was particularly attracted by a small fight among some of his brethren, or was seized with a desire to thrust his nostrils against some baby playing on the sidewalk, (a ceremony which, we are sorry to say, he accompanied with a sniff,) throwing the juvenile responsibility, thereby, into convulsions, evidenced by yells.  With these exceptions, Longears was a well-behaved dog, and followed his master in a most “respectable” manner.

Verty arrived at the fluttering doorway of O’Brallaghan’s shop, and encountered the proprietor upon the threshold, who made him a low bow.  His errand was soon told, and O’Brallaghan entered into extensive explanations and profuse apologies for the delay in sending home Mr. Verty’s suit left with him.  It would have received “attinshun” that very morning—­it was in the back room.  Would Mr. Verty “inter?”

Verty entered accordingly, followed by the stately Longears, who rubbed his nose against O’Brallaghan’s stockings as he passed, afterwards shaking his head, as if they were not to his taste.

Verty found himself opposite to Mr. Jinks, who was driving his needle as savagely as ever, and, with a tremendous frown, chaunting the then popular ditty of the “Done-over Tailor.”  Whether this was in gloomy satire upon his own occupation we cannot say, but certainly the lover of the divine Miss Sallianna presented an appearance very different from his former one, at the Bower of Nature.  His expression was as dignified and lofty as before; but as to costume, the least said about Mr. Jinks the better.  We may say, however, that it consisted mainly of a pair of slippers and a nightcap, from the summit of which latter article of clothing drooped a lengthy tassel.

On Verty’s entrance, Mr. Jinks started up with a terrific frown; or rather, to more accurately describe the movement which he made, uncoiled his legs, and raised his stooping shoulders.

“How, sir!” he cried, “is my privacy again invaded!”

“I came to get my clothes,” said Verty, preoccupied with his own thoughts, and very indifferent to the hero’s ire.

“That’s no excuse, sir!”

“Excuse?” said Verty.

“Yes, sir—­I said excuse; this is my private apartment, and I have told O’Brallaghan that it should not be invaded, sir!”