While he was still dwelling on the last note, and embellishing it with
a prolonged flourish, a dirty hand was observed to glide stealthily and
swiftly along the top of the wall, as if in pursuit of a fly, and then
to clasp with the utmost dexterity one of the old gentleman's ankles.
This done, the companion hand appeared, and clasped the other ankle.
Thus encumbered the old gentleman lifted his legs awkwardly once or
twice, as if they were very clumsy and imperfect pieces of machinery,
and then looking down on his own side of the wall, burst into a loud
laugh.
'It's you, is it?' said the old gentleman.
'Yes, it's me,' replied a gruff voice.
'How's the Emperor of Tartary?' said the old gentleman.
'Oh! he's much the same as usual,' was the reply. 'No better and no
worse.'
'The young Prince of China,' said the old gentleman, with much interest.
'Is he reconciled to his father-in-law, the great potato salesman?'
'No,' answered the gruff voice; 'and he says he never will be, that's
more.'
'If that's the case,' observed the old gentleman, 'perhaps I'd better
come down.'
'Well,' said the man on the other side, 'I think you had, perhaps.
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