Round the Block | Page 6

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 glass over the fireplace, and not wholly displeased with his appearance.
"Another thought strikes me," said Overtop, explosively. "It's nearly half an hour to sunset. I am impatient to begin my acquaintance with our fellow citizens--our future friends, if I may so call them. Let us look out of the windows, and see what the excellent people are doing. Perhaps it may interest even a recluse and bookworm like you."
"Nonsense," rejoined Marcus Wilkeson. "There's no curiosity in my composition."
And yet, when his two companions stood at the window of the little back parlor, pressing their noses against the glass, and looking out, he could not resist the temptation to join them, although