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He was silent,——and sat looking at his handsome left hand with the red stone ring upon it.——Is he going to fall in love with Iris?
VI.
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The young man John asked me to come up one day and try some “old Burbon,” which he said was A 1. On asking him what was the number of his room, he answered, that it was forty-’leven, sky-parlor floor, but that I shouldn’t find it, if he didn’t go ahead to show me the way. I followed him to his habitat, being very willing to see in what kind of warren he burrowed, and thinking I might pick up something about the boarders who had excited my curiosity.
The young man John fell into a train of reflections which ended in his producing a Bologna sausage, a plate of “crackers,” as we Boston folks call certain biscuits, and the bottle of whiskey described as being A 1.
Under the influence of the crackers and sausage, he grew cordial and communicative.
It was time, I thought, to sound him as to our boarders.
What do you think of our young Iris?——I began.
Fust-rate little filly;——he said.——Pootiest and nicest little chap I’ve seen since the schoolma’am left. Schoolma’am was a brown-haired one,——eyes coffee-color. This one has got wine-colored eyes,——’n’ that’s the reason they turn a fellah’s head, I suppose.