Mrs. Sandboys was as eager for the survey as Mrs. Wewitz herself, and accordingly they started off together, intent upon having what the ladies called a “good rout out” of all the things during the absence of the Frenchmen. On reaching the bed-room, they stood for some few minutes outside, listening, but hearing no sound within, they ventured to push the door open, so that they might be able to have a full view of the apartment, and satisfy themselves of there being no one in it before they ventured upon entering. Not a creature was to be seen, so the two ladies crept cautiously in; and no sooner did Mrs. Wewitz set eyes on the coffee colour of the once white dimity bed-curtains, than she threw up her hands, as if in despair of ever seeing them a “good colour” again. Then placing the corner of the counterpane to her nose, the smell of stale tobacco was almost overpowering. How she should ever sweeten them for the young ladies, was more than she could tell. Mrs. Sandboys next drew her attention to the state of the boards—the very boards which it was her pride to hear all who saw them say they could eat their dinner off them—and now, owing to the four dozen foreigners not possessing so much as one spittoon among them, they were stained over with the juice and ashes of tobacco. The bright bars and sides of the stove, too, were all spotted red with rust. On a chair in the middle of the room stood the blacking bottle and brushes, and beside them, on one of the white toilet-covered tables, was a basin half full of inky water, in which the gallant sons of “_la belle France_” had recently rinsed their hands and faces—near this was a bottle of bandoline for gumming down the hair, and an old tooth-brush standing up in it—the only tooth-brush to be seen in the place. Lying next to these was a dirty, mangy-looking hair-brush, with several sticks of different coloured _cires de moustache_—looking like the ends of candles—and a bottle of lavender water. On the mantelpiece stood a pair of curling-tongs, a leaden whisker-comb, and a pot of patent polish for the boots, while above were ranged the entire pipes of the fraternity. Pinned to a string that stretched across the room from bed to bed, hung a couple of shirt fronts, left to dry, together with several dozen pairs of fresh-cleaned, lemon-coloured kid gloves, that emitted a strong smell of turpentine. As the two ladies “poked about” the apartment, each seemed to find especial delight in dragging the other to witness some fresh evidence of filth or foppery that she had just discovered; and while they were thus agreeably engaged, speaking in whispers to one another, Mrs. Sandboys, who had ventured to stray further into the depths of the apartment than the more cautious Mrs. Wewitz, had almost reached the end of the chamber, when, to her horror, she discovered some one fast asleep in one of the beds. All that was visible above the clothes was the upper part of a head, profusely done up in curl papers.