When it was re-opened, George was found seated in the centre of the room, under the hands of the Doctor, who was examining his eye; while Cornelia, with an appearance of great anxiety, held the light. "Is it out yet?" "No, Doctor: I feel it still--how it hurts!" Thereupon the Doctor produced a formidable instrument from his pocket, and appeared about to gouge out the eye by way of curing it; and the door was closed amid cries of "eye!" "eye!" "eye!"--quite parliamentary, as Charlie said. The second scene disclosed Cornelia apparently engaged in household avocations, which were interrupted by a rap at the door. She gave admittance to a man and boy who were peddling tin wares, and there ensued such a sounding of tin-pans, and such a chaffering about tins, that no doubt could exist in the minds of the spectators as to the word. To act out the third syllable, Cornelia and George were seated at a table, with lamp and books, when a knock was heard, and a traveller, with carpet-bag and umbrella, entered the room. He had lost his way--he was going to the town of Certainty, in the land of Theoretical Speculation, and wanted some plain directions. "Oh, I can tell you exactly how to get there," cried Cornelia. "Keep along this road, the highway of Inquiry, until you find it bends off to the left into the path of Metaphysics. The path becomes narrower and more difficult continually, and many side-walks lead off to other spots: one, to the wilderness of Atheism; another, to the populous city of Thinkasyouplease; still another, to the dangerous bog of Alldoubt. But if you follow the right road, you cannot possibly err." "Much obliged: I'll try to keep the path." Presently, the traveller returned, in a battered condition: he had wandered from the right track; his cloak of philosophical reason had been torn by the briers of difficulty; his feet pierced, through the shoes of intellectual pride, by the sharp stones of suffering: he could not hear of any town of Certainty in the whole country of Theoretical Speculation. "I believe we have all made a mistake," replied George. "We erred in giving you a wrong direction: you erred in following it. Certainty is situated in the land of Truth: follow this highway of Inquiry in the opposite direction, until it leads you to a well-trodden road formed by the juncture of Faith and Facts; and then you cannot fail to reach Certainty. My sister Fancy misled you into error." And when the company in the sitting-room cried out "err," "err," the shutting of the door showed they were not mistaken. For the last scene, Aunt Lucy was called into requisition, and formed the central object of the exhibition. But little wit was required to make, of the whole, the word _Itinerant_. "Now for a few puzzles and conundrums," cried Charlie, "I have one which I think none of you can guess. Who are the most immoral of manufacturers? Do you give it up?"