You see to what it has brought you. "Too late, master," replied the landlord of the Trumpeter, in a surly tone, for he did not much like the appearance of his customer; "just shut up shop. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. "Another such attempt," said the latter, "and you are a dead man. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked. God knows how you did it.
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