“’Eavens and earth!” he gasped, and clapping hand to cheek was relieved to find his whisker yet intact, but for a long moment sat clutching that handful of soft and fleecy hair, staring before him in puzzled wonder, for the hand had seemed so very real he could almost feel it there yet.  Presently, bethinking him to glance over his shoulder, Mr. Brimberly gasped and goggled, for leaning over the back of his chair was a little, old man, very slender, very upright, and very smart as to attire, who fanned himself with a jaunty straw hat banded in vivid crimson; an old man whose bright, youthful eyes looked out from a face wizened with age, while up from his bald crown rose a few wisps of white and straggling hair.

“’Oly ’eavens!” murmured Mr. Brimberly in a faint voice.

The visitor, settling his bony elbows more comfortably, fanned himself until his sparse locks waved gently to and fro, and, nodding, spoke these words: 

“Oh, wake thee, oh, wake thee, my bonny bird,
 Oh, wake and sleep no more;
 Thy pretty pipe I ’ave n’t ’eard,
 But, lumme, how you snore!”

Mr. Brimberly stared; Mr. Brimberly’s mouth opened, and eventually Mr. Brimberly rose and surveyed the intruder slowly, up from glittering shoes to the dome of his head and down again; and Mr. Brimberly’s ample bosom surged, his eye kindled, and his whiskers—!

“Cheer-o!” nodded the Old Un.

Mr. Brimberly blinked and pulled down his waistcoat.

“Me good man,” said he, “you’ll find the tradesmen’s entrance round the corner.  Go away, if you please, and go immediate—­I’m prehoccupied.”

“No, you ain’t; you’re the butler, you are, I lay my oath—­

“‘Spoons an’ forks
 An’ drawin’ corks’

“that’s your job, ain’t it, chum?”

“Chum!” said Mr. Brimberly in tones of horror.  “Chum!” he repeated, grasping a handful of indignant whisker.  “Oh, outragious!  Oh, very hobscene!  ’Ow dare you, sir?  ‘Oo are you, sir, eh, sir—­answer me, an’ answer—­prompt!”

“Leave them cobwebs alone, an’ I’ll tell you, matey.”

“Matey!” groaned Mr. Brimberly, turning up his eyes.

“I’m the Guv’s familiar friend and personal pal, I am.  I’m ’is adviser, confeedential, matreemonial, circumstantial, an’ architect’ral.  I’m ‘is trainer, advance agent, manager, an’ sparrin’ partner—­that’s who I am.  An’ now, mate, ‘avin’ ’elped to marry ’im, I’ve jest took a run down ‘ere to see as all things is fit an’ proper for ’is ’oneymoon!”

“My word, this is a mad feller, this is!” murmured Mr. Brimberly, “or else ’e ’s drunk!”

“Drunk?” exclaimed the Old Un, clapping on his hat very much over one eye and glaring, “wot—­me?”

“I repeat,” said Mr. Brimberly, addressing the universe in general, “I repeats as ’e is a narsty, drunken little person!”

“Person?” cried the Old Un, scowling, “why, you perishin’—­”

“Old!” said Mr. Brimberly, “’old, I beg!  Enough ’as been said—­go ’ence!  ’Oo you are I do not know, wot you are I do not care, but in these regions you do not remain; your langwidge forbids and—­”