Now the widow had never spoken so indignantly before:  if the reader wishes to know why she did so now, we will acquaint him; the widow Vandersloosh had perceived Smallbones, who sat like Patience on a monument, upon the two half bags of biscuit before her porch.  It was a query to the widow whether they were to be a present, or an article to be bargained for:  it was therefore very advisable to pick a quarrel, that the matter might be cleared up.  The widow’s ruse met with all the success which it deserved.  In the first place, Mr Vanslyperken did what he never would have believed himself capable of, but the wrath of the widow had worked him also up to wrath, and he saluted Snarleyyow with such a kick on the side, as to send him howling into the back-yard, followed him out, and, notwithstanding an attempt at defence on the part of the dog, which the lieutenant’s high boots rendered harmless, Snarleyyow was fairly or unfairly, as you may please to think it, kicked into an outhouse, the door shut, and the key turned upon him.  After which Mr Vanslyperken returned to the parlour, where he found the widow, erect, with her back turned to the stove, blowing and bristling, her bosom heaving, reminding you of seas mountains high, as if she were still under the effect of a just resentment for the affront offered to her.  There she stood waiting in all dignity for Mr Vanslyperken to repair the injury done, whether unintentional or not.  In few words, there she waited, for the biscuit to be presented to her.  And it was presented, for Vanslyperken knew no other way of appeasing her wrath.  Gradually the storm was allayed—­the flush of anger disappeared, the corners of the scornfully-turned-down mouth, were turned up again—­Cupid’s bow was no longer bent in anger, and the widow’s bosom slept as when the ocean sleeps, like “an unweaned child.”  The biscuit bags were brought in by Smallbones, their contents stored, and harmony restored.  Once more was Mr Vanslyperken upon the little sofa by the side of the fat widow, and once more did he take her melting hand.  Alas! that her heart was not made of the same soft materials.

But we must not only leave Short and his companions in the Lust Haus, but the widow and the lieutenant in their soft dalliance, and now occupy ourselves with the two principal personages of this our drama, Smallbones and Snarleyyow.

When Smallbones had retired, with the empty bread-bags under his arm, he remained some time reflecting at the porch, and then having apparently made up his mind, he walked to a chandler’s shop just over the bridge of the canal opposite, and purchased a needle, some strong twine, and a red-herring.  He also procured, “without purchase,” as they say in our War Office Gazettes, a few pieces of stick.  Having obtained all these, he went round to the door of the yard behind the widow’s house, and let himself in.  Little did Mr Vanslyperken imagine what mischief was brewing, while he was praising and drinking the beer of the widow’s own brewing.