Between the light inside and the darkness out, combined with her own flurry, Mrs. Butter could see absolutely nothing. A form in a hat, as of a short, stout man, at last made itself dimly visible to her, but he seemed to be standing with his back to the window; at least, she could discern no features. "What do you please to want, sir?" she called out, deeming it well to be civil. Instead of making any answer, the glass was rapped at again, more peremptorily than before. Mrs. Butter drew the easement open; it had upright iron bars on the outside, so there was no danger that any Philistine, above the size of a thin rabbit, could make his way in. "What is it?" she asked. But still the man never spoke; and now that her eyes were getting accustomed to the darkness, she saw that he had no face, or if he had a face, it was enveloped and hidden from view. A disagreeable feeling, as of some vague fear, stole over her. "What is it, sir, I ask? Won't you please to say what you want?" All in a moment, without warning, the man burst into a blaze. Blazed up as if he had been coated with pitch or stuffed with gunpowder, and had suddenly caught fire. Mrs. Butter, nearly beside herself with terror, darted back from the window, uttering scream upon scream. For some little time all was confusion. Mr. Henry, and Tom Brabazon, the one brought from his room by the cries and the light, the other forgetting his needful privacy in the interests of humanity, rushed out of doors, each with a bucket of water. But the burning man, who appeared to have arrived on an iron barrow, was suddenly wheeled to a safe spot off the premises, and a set of gleeful savages were dancing and shouting round him, while he blazed away. Tom Brabazon stole indoors again. Need you be told that this was the work of the college boys? It was the "jolly lark" hinted at by Jones minor to Miss Rose. They had made a straw figure, introducing a modicum of gunpowder, and fired it before Madam Butter's eyes for her especial edification. Dancing, howling, shouting, the boys did not see the approach of Mr. Baker until that gentleman was close upon them. He had happened to be passing within view, and ran up in terror. They took flight then; and indeed there was nothing to wait for, for the figure had nearly emitted his last spark. Mr. Baker, rather in fear still, perplexed, and outrageously angry, threw out his arms in the dark, but only succeeded in grasping one: the rest eluded him. That one was George Paradyne. Mrs. Butter, in a state of fury, came out with her tale. "I'll cane _you_ at all events," said Mr. Baker to his captive. "Come with me." "I have not done anything," said George. "I don't know now what has happened." "I'll teach you, you vagabond, what has happened," stuttered Mr. Baker, still further exasperated by the assumption of ignorance, which he entirely disbelieved. "Come along."