As soon as I was alone, I took from my pocket one of the handbills which
my excitable fellow-traveler had presented to me, so as to have it ready
for Mrs. Baggs the moment we stood face to face. Armed with this ominous
letter of introduction, I kicked a chair down against the folding-doors,
by way of giving a preliminary knock to arouse the housekeeper's
attention. The plan was immediately successful. Mrs. Baggs opened the
doors of communication violently. A slight smell of spirits entered
the room, and was followed close by the housekeeper herself, with an
indignant face and a disordered head-dress.

"What do you mean, sir? How dare you--" she began; then stopped aghast,
looking at me in speechless astonishment.

"I have been obliged to make a slight alteration in my personal
appearance, ma'am," I said. "But I am still Frank Softly."

"Don't talk to me about personal appearances, sir," cried Mrs.
Baggs recovering. "What do you mean by being here? Leave the house
immediately. I shall write to the doctor, Mr. Softly, this very night."

"He has no address you can direct to," I rejoined. "If you don't believe
me, read that." I gave her the handbill without another word of preface.

Mrs. Baggs looked at it--lost in an instant some of the fine color
plentifully diffused over her face by sleep and spirits--sat down in the
nearest chair with a thump that seemed to threaten the very foundations
of Number Two, Zion Place--and stared me hard in the face; the most
speechless and helpless elderly female I ever beheld.