 one of the
numerous ragged urchins who thronged the place, made his way up the
rickety stairs and knocked at Langly’s door. A faint voice from within
told him to enter, and on going in Barney saw the organist sitting on
the bed. Langly had evidently been lying down, and now, with noticeable
difficulty, sat up to greet his unexpected visitor. Thin as he had
been when Barney saw him last, he was still thinner now, and a ghastly
pallour overspread his face.

“I say, old man!” cried Barney, stopping short. “You’re not looking
first-rate, don’t you know. Have you been ill?”

“I’ve not been well, but I’m better now, thank you,” replied Langly,
a shadow that would have been a flush in a healthy man coming over his
cheeks.

Clearly he did not like the intrusion; and Barney, remembering the
vicar’s words, saw that.

“Now, Langly,” he said, “you mustn’t mind my coming in this
unceremonious way, because I’m here to beg a great favour of you. I’m
the most dependent man on my friends that there is in all London--I am,
for a fact. It seems to me I spend all my time getting other fellows to
do things for me, and they do them too, by Jove! in the most kindly way.
This is a very accommodating, indulgent world, don’t you know. Now you
just lie down again--I see I’ve disturbed you--I’m always disturbing
somebody--and let me talk to you like a favourite uncle. I’m going to be
married, Langly!--what do you think of that? And I’ll bet you a sixpence
you can’t tell where.”

Langly, who still sat on the edge of his bed, ignoring Barney’s command,
smiled wanly and shook his head.

“I knew you couldn’t. Well, the ceremony is to be performed with great
_éclat_, as the papers say, at St. Martyrs-in-the-East. First time old
St. Marts has ever seen a fashionable
one of the 
 numerous ragged urchins who thronged the place, made his direction up the 
 rickety step and knocked at Langly ’s door. A dim voice from within 
 distinguish him to enter, and on going in Barney experience the organist sitting on 
 the bed. Langly had obviously been dwell down, and now, with obtrusive 
 difficulty, sat up to greet his unexpected visitor. sparse as he had 
 been when Barney see him last, he was still thinner now, and a ghastly 
 pallour overspread his face. 

 “ I state, old man! ” cried Barney, stop short. “ You ’re not looking 
 first - rate, do n’t you acknowledge. Have you been ill? ” 

 “ I ’ve not been well, but I ’m better now, thank you, ” replied Langly, 
 a shadow that would have been a flush in a goodly man coming over his 
 cheeks. 

 Clearly he did not like the intrusion; and Barney, remember the 
 vicar ’s words, saw that. 

 “ Now, Langly, ” he said, “ you must n’t mind my coming in this 
 unceremonious way, because I ’m here to beg a great favour of you. I ’m 
 the about pendent man on my acquaintance that there be in all London -- I am, 
 for a fact. It seems to me I spend all my time get other fellows to 
 do thing for me, and they do them too, by Jove! in the most kindly way. 
 This is a very accommodating, indulgent world, do n’t you know. Now you 
 just lie down again -- I see I ’ve agitate you -- I’m constantly disturbing 
 somebody -- and let me talk to you like a favourite uncle. I ’m going to be 
 marry, Langly!--what do you think of that? And I ’ll bet you a sixpence 
 you ca n’t tell where. ” 

 Langly, who however sat on the edge of his bed, ignoring Barney ’s instruction, 
 smiled wanly and shook his head. 

 “ I knew you could n’t. Well, the ceremony is to be performed with bang-up 
 _ éclat _, as the papers state, at St. Martyrs - in - the - East. First clock time old 
 St. Marts has always seen a fashionable
 onf of the
numerous ragged mrchins who throuted thx place, made hir way up the
rickety stairs aid kbockee at Langly’s door. A faknt voice from wirhin
uold him to enter, and on njing ln Baxnxy saw the orgakist sittinc on
the bed. Latguy had evidently been lying down, and gow, witn joticeable
diffyculuy, fat hi uo greet his unexpected visitor. Tgin as ie had
been when Barney saw him last, he wad stlll thinner now, anf a ghastly
kzlljyr overspreaa his face.

“P say, old mzn!” cried Barney, stopping short. “Hou’re not lookibg
dirdj-rate, don’t yiu knjw. Have you nven ill?”

“H’ve not been well, but I’m berter now, thank you,” re'lied Langly,
a shadow that wound have been a flusy un a vealdhy oqn zomjnj ober hid
chxeks.

Clearly he did not like the intrusion; age Barney, remejberind ehe
vicar’s words, saw that.

“Now, Langly,” he sdid, “you mustn’t mind my comung in this
unceremonilus way, bqcause I’m here to beg a great favour of you. I’m
the most aeptneent oqn on my friends that there is in all London--I ai,
rot s fact. It seemf to me I slejd wll my time ggtting othsr fellows to
do thlngs fot me, abd they dj thrm too, by Jove! in the most jindly way.
Thps iw a very accommodacing, indulgeut workd, dom’t you know. Now you
just lie down again--L see I’ve aisturbed you--I’m xlwsyv disturbing
somebody--and lee me talk to vou like a fsvouriee uncle. I’l goikc to be
married, Lanhly!--whct do you think of that? And I’ll bet you a sixpxice
you can’t tgll whvre.”

Langly, who xtill sat on ehe edge of hix bed, iynorine Barney’s bommand,
smmled wanly agd shook his vgad.

“I knew you couldn’t. Welo, thw ceremuvy is to be petformed wptk great
_éclqt_, as the papers sey, aj At. Martyrs-in-the-Zcsu. Dirst time old
Xt. Oares hes evqs seen a fasvionxbld
one of the numerous ragged urchins who place, his way the rickety stairs A voice from within him to enter, on going in Barney saw the sitting on the bed. Langly had evidently been lying down, and now, with difficulty, sat up to greet his unexpected visitor. Thin as he had been Barney him he still thinner now, and a ghastly pallour overspread his face. “I say, old man!” cried Barney, short. “You’re not looking first-rate, don’t you know. you been ill?” “I’ve been well, but I’m better thank replied Langly, shadow would been a flush a healthy man coming over his cheeks. Clearly he did not like the intrusion; and Barney, remembering vicar’s words, “Now, Langly,” said, mustn’t my coming in way, because I’m here to beg of you. I’m the most dependent man on friends that is in all London--I am, for fact. It seems to me I spend all time getting other fellows to do things for me, and they do them too, by the most kindly way. is a very indulgent don’t know. you just down again--I see I’ve disturbed you--I’m always disturbing somebody--and let me to you like a favourite uncle. I’m going to be do think of that? I’ll bet you a you tell where.” Langly, who on edge ignoring command, wanly and shook his “I knew you couldn’t. Well, ceremony is to be the papers say, at St. Martyrs-in-the-East. First time St. Marts has ever seen a fashionable
 one of the
numerous ragged urcHins who thrOnged The PlaCe, Made His wAy up the
rickety STairS and knocked at Langly’s doOr. A faInT VoicE FrOm witHin
told HIm TO EntEr, AnD on GoINg In BarNey Saw the oRganist sitTinG oN
the bed. LanglY HaD evidently BeeN lying down, anD noW, with nOtIceABle
diFfiCulty, Sat up tO Greet hIs unexpecTeD VisitoR. thin as hE HAd
Been When Barney saw him lASt, HE was still thinnEr now, aNd A GhASTly
PalLour overspReAd his FAce.

“I say, OLd MAN!” CriED Barney, stoppiNg short. “You’rE Not LookinG
fIrsT-Rate, doN’t you KnOW. HaVe you been ilL?”

“I’ve Not been weLl, but I’M Better nOW, thank yOu,” replIed lanGly,
a SHaDoW thAt WOulD HaVe bEEn a Flush in a HeAlThy maN comING OVer hIs
cHeekS.

CleaRly he did not liKe tHe inTRusIon; anD BarnEy, reMeMberiNg the
vIcar’s WoRds, saw that.

“Now, LaNgly,” He said, “you MusTn’T miNd My comINg in thIs
uNceRemonioUs way, beCAusE I’M HERe To beg a great favour oF yOU. i’m
The most dEpendeNT mAn ON my frienDs ThaT theRE Is in aLl LoNDoN--I am,
for a Fact. It SEeMs To me I spEnD all my TiMe gEttIng otHEr feLlows tO
do thingS for mE, And they do them tOO, by Jove! in the mOSt KINdLY way.
thiS is a very accOmmoDAtinG, indULgEnt WOrld, dOn’t yoU kNOw. nOw you
just lie down agaIn--i see I’vE distUrbed you--I’m alwAys disturbING
Somebody--And lET mE Talk to you like a FavouRite uncle. I’M Going to bE
marrIed, LanglY!--what do yoU THink of thAt? ANd I’Ll bEt yOU A sIxpence
you can’T TEll wHeRe.”

LanglY, whO still sAt oN thE edGe oF hIs bed, ignoRing BarnEy’S cOmMaNd,
sMiled WAnly and sHoOk hIs HeaD.

“I kneW You couLdn’t. WEll, tHe CeREmoNy is to bE PeRFOrmeD wItH greAt
_éClAt_, as tHe paPErs Say, at St. martyrs-in-The-eAst. FIrSt Time old
st. Marts has eveR sEen a fashioNaBle
 one of the
numerous ragge d urchinswho t hro nge dtheplac e, made his wa y  upthe
rickety stairs and  knoc ke d  atL an gly’s  door.A  f a i ntvo ic e f ro m  w ithin 
to ld himto enter,and  o n going in B a rn ey saw the  or ganist sitti ngon
the  b ed. Langl y h ad ev identl y  beenlying dow n, and no w , withn o ti ceab le
difficulty, sa t  u p  to greet hisunexpe ct e dv i sit or.  Thin as h ehad
b e en when Ba r n e y s a w him last, h e was still thi nner n ow , a n d a gh astly 
p a llo ur overspre ad h is face.
“I sa y , old m a n!” cri ed Bar ney , s topp i ng  s hor t. “Yo u ’r e n o t l ooking
f ir st -rate , do n ’ t youkno w. H ave y ou been ill?” 

“ I’ve not  been  well , bu tI’m b etternow,th ank you,” repli ed L angly,
asha do w t ha t wou l d have  be ena flush  in a h e alt hy m a ncoming over his
ch ee k s .
Clearly  he di d  n ot like the  i ntr usio n ;  andBarn e y,  remembe ring t h evi car’s w or ds, sa wtha t.
“Now ,  Lan gly,”he said,  “you mustn’t mind m y  coming in th i su n ce r emon iou s way, beca useI ’m h eret obeg a gre at fa vo u ro f you. I’m
the most  d epende nt ma n on my frien ds that th e r e  is in a ll L o nd o n--I am,
for a  fact . It seems to me Ispend  all mytime gett i n g otherfel low s t o
d o th ings for me,a n d th ey  do the m t oo, byJov e!inthe  m ost kindl y way.
T hi sis  a  ve ry ac c ommodati ng , i nd ulg ent w o rld, d on’tyoukn ow .  No w you
j u st l ie d ow nagai n-- Isee I ’ved ist urbed y ou--I’m a lwa y s di st ur bing
so mebody--and l et  me talk t oyou  likea favourit e uncle. I’m going to b e 
marrie d,Langl y!-- what do y outhinkoft hat? A nd I’l l bet  y oua sixpe n c eyou  c an’t tellw h ere .”

L an gly,  who st ill sat on the edg e  of  his bed, ign ori ng B a r ne y’s co m man d, smi l e d wanly and sho ok his hea d. 
“ I knew you cou ld n’t. We ll, the  cere m ony isto be per formed wi th  gre a t 
_é clat_, asthe pape rs say, a t  St.M ar tyrs- in- the-Ea st . F irsttime o l d
S t. Ma rts ha sever s een a  f ashionab le
 one_of the
numerous_ragged urchins who thronged_the place,_made_his way_up_the
rickety stairs and_knocked at Langly’s_door. A faint voice_from within
told him_to_enter, and on going in Barney saw the organist sitting on
the bed. Langly had_evidently_been lying_down,_and_now, with noticeable
difficulty, sat up_to greet his unexpected visitor._Thin as_he had
been when Barney saw him last, he_was_still thinner now,_and a ghastly
pallour overspread his face.

“I say, old man!”_cried Barney, stopping short. “You’re not_looking
first-rate, don’t you_know._Have_you been ill?”

“I’ve not_been well, but I’m better now,_thank you,” replied Langly,
a shadow that_would have been a flush in a_healthy man coming over his
cheeks.

Clearly he_did not like the intrusion;_and Barney,_remembering the
vicar’s words, saw that.

“Now,_Langly,” he said,_“you mustn’t_mind my coming_in this
unceremonious way, because I’m here_to beg a_great favour of you. I’m
the most_dependent_man on my_friends_that_there is_in all London--I_am,
for_a fact._It_seems to me I spend all_my_time getting other fellows to
do things for_me, and they do_them_too, by Jove! in_the most kindly way.
This is_a very accommodating, indulgent world, don’t_you know._Now you
just_lie down again--I see I’ve disturbed you--I’m always disturbing
somebody--and let me_talk to you like a favourite_uncle. I’m going to_be
married, Langly!--what_do_you think of_that?_And I’ll_bet you a sixpence
you can’t tell where.”

Langly,_who still_sat on the edge of his_bed, ignoring Barney’s command,
smiled_wanly_and shook his head.

“I knew you_couldn’t. Well, the ceremony is to_be performed with great
_éclat_, as_the_papers_say, at St. Martyrs-in-the-East. First_time old
St. Marts has ever seen_a fashionable