Young Thorpe had not returned from Mr. Blyth's when Mat entered the
lodgings with these purchases. He put the bottles, the sugar, and the
lemons in the cupboard--cast a satisfied look at the three clean
tumblers and spoons already standing on the shelf--relaxed so far from
his usual composure of aspect as to smile--lit the fire, and heaped
plenty of coal on, to keep it alight--then sat down on his
bearskins--wriggled himself comfortably into the corner, and threw his
handkerchief over his face; chuckling gruffly for the first time since
the past night, as he put his hand in his pockets, and so accidentally
touched the lump of wax that lay in one of them.
"Now I'm all ready for the Painter-Man," growled Mat behind the
handkerchief, as he quietly settled himself to go to sleep.
CHAPTER X.
THE SQUAW'S MIXTURE.
Like the vast majority of those persons who are favored by Nature with,
what is commonly termed, "a high flow of animal spirits," Zack was
liable, at certain times and seasons, to fall from the heights of
exhilaration to the depths of despair, without stopping for a moment,
by the way, at any intermediate stages of moderate cheerfulness,
pensive depression, or tearful gloom. After he had parted from his
mother, he presented himself again at Mr.
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