Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. Taking the opposite course from that which he had hitherto pursued when it has been necessary to attend him in his visits to the lower part of his premises, he struck into a narrow passage on the right, which he tracked till he came to a small door, like the approach to a vault. Towards this box Sharples directed his steps, and, unlocking a hatch in the door, disclosed a recess scarcely as large, and certainly not as clean, as a dog-kennel. " "I remember now!" interrupted McClintock. "In with him!" "Ay—ay, yer hon'r," cried the foremost chairman, lending a helping hand. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. ‘Home?’ ‘To your family. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs.
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