part of his face. Having bowed with a happy mingling of dignity and politeness, the conventional side of this gentleman's character suddenly vanished; and a crazy side, to all appearance, took its place. He dropped on his knees in front of the footstool. Had he forgotten to say his prayers that morning, and was he in such a hurry to remedy the fault that he had no time to spare for consulting appearances? The doubt had hardly suggested itself, before it was set at rest in a most unexpected manner. Mr. Zant looked at his visitor with a bland smile, and said:
"Please let me see your feet."
For the moment, Mr. Rayburn lost his presence of mind. He looked at the instruments on the side-table.
"Are you a corn-cutter?" was all he could say.
"Excuse me, sir, " returned the polite operator, "the term you use is quite obsolete in our profession." He rose from his knees, and added modestly: "I am a Chiropodist."
"I beg your pardon."
"Don't mention it! You are not, I imagine, in