Round the Block | Page 6

Miss Philomela Wilkeson, and Mash, the cook--proved rather too much
for Matthew's fortitude. He yawned audibly.
"I understand you," said Marcus; "you are sick of this."
"Well--hum--it's a little prosy at times." Maltboy yawned again.
"Incorrigible monster!" cried Marcus. "What shall we do with him,
Top?"
The person addressed swung back the rebellious cowlick from his
forehead, as if to clear his thinking faculties from a load while he
considered the grave question. "Do with him? Do with him? Oh! I'll tell
you." Here the speaker's eyes flashed with the light of a great discovery.
"Tether him like a horse, with a certain limited area to feed in. D'ye see?
D'ye see?"

"A horse? Can't say that I do," returned Mr. Marcus Wilkeson.
"And I can't say that I do, either," added Mr. Matthew Maltboy. "A
horse! Why not say a donkey? I should see it quite as well."
"As you please," resumed the impetuous Overtop. "A donkey, then.
Perhaps the metaphor will be better. What I mean--what you two are so
dull as not to see--is to put this unreliable Maltboy on a moderate
allowance of flirtation; to keep him, for example, within the limits of
this block. D'ye see? D'ye catch the idea?"
"It begins to dawn on me," said Wilkeson.
"And I catch a ray or two of it," added Maltboy. But--"
"Excuse me," interrupted Overtop, stepping between his two
companions, and gesticulating wildly at each of them in turn, as if he
would dart conviction into them like electricity from the tips of his
fingers. "Here is a block full of people. Their houses are joined together,
or nearly so, all the way round. The inhabitants hear each other's pianos
playing and each other's babies squalling all day long. If a fire breaks
out in the block, it may be all burned down together. If the measles
makes its appearance on the block, it probably runs through it. Is there
not, therefore, a community of dangers among us; and if of dangers,
why not of pleasures? Why should not the inhabitants of a block be
regarded as a distinct settlement, or tribe, whose members owe
kindness and goodwill to each other before the rest of the world?
Looking at it in the light of humanity, is it not our duty to know our
neighbors?"
"And Matt would say, To love them too--that is, the young and pretty
ones," observed "Wilkeson.
"Precisely," said Maltboy.
"Excuse me," continued Overtop, deprecating further interruption with
both hands. "That is the point I was just coming to. Since Maltboy must
have female society, and cannot be kept out of it by main force, why

not give him the range of this block? Catch the idea, eh?--in its full
force and bearings?"
"Wilkeson and Maltboy implied, by nods, that they caught it.
"And--ahem--I think I'll take the same range too," added Overtop. "Not
because I care a pin about female society, but just to test my new
theory."
Cries of "Oh! oh!" from Marcus Wilkeson.
Overtop laughed. "You'll be a convert to it yet, my good fellow."
"Never," said Marcus, inflexibly, "so long as books and tobacco hold
out."
"We'll see," replied Overtop. "But let me think how we are to begin."
He rubbed his nose with a forefinger, then tossed back the cowlick, and
said, impetuously: "I have it--I have it! We know Quigg, the grocer, at
the corner below, for we are customers of his. Of course, he has an
immense number of customers on the block, and will make New Year's
calls on all of them, in the way of business. Why can't he take us in tow?
It's as plain as daylight."
"Plain enough, I admit," said Marcus Wilkeson; "but what will Quigg's
customers say?"
"Poor fellow!" returned Overtop. "How feebly you hermits reason
about society! If you had knocked round town on New Year's days, as
Matt and I have often done, you would know that visitors are valued
only because they swell the number of calls, and that it is entirely
immaterial who they are, or who introduces them. The militia general,
the banker, the judge, the D.D., the butcher, the drygoods clerk, are
units of equal value on that day, each adding one more to the score
which is privately kept behind the door. We shall be welcome; never
fear for that. You must come with us, and see for yourself."
"I thank you," said Marcus Wilkeson, laughing. "No such fooleries at

my time of life."
"Very well," said Overtop. "Matt and I will try to represent the new
firm of bachelor housekeepers creditably. Matt will look after the pretty
girls, and I after the sensible ones--that is, if there happen to be any on
this block."
"Agreed," observed Matthew Maltboy, catching a view of himself in a