"Capital room. Sir!" said Mr. Jones, winking shrewdly; "real Brussels carpet; portrait of Her Majesty above the mantel-piece; and that bed, Sir --just feel that bed, Sir," he added, giving it a vigorous poke, by way of proving its softness; "very cheerful look-out, too; the railroad just hard by--see all the trains passing." Without much minding these advantages, the stranger cast a quick look round the room, then said in his curt way: "Take four shillings for it? Yes. Well then, I'll come to-night." And without giving Mr. Jones time to reply, he walked downstairs, and walked out through the shop. "Well, father, have you let the room?" asked Mary, when her father came down, still bewildered by the young man's strange and abrupt manner. "Well, child," he replied, "I suppose I may say I have, for the young man is coming to-night." "What's his name?" promptly asked Mary. "I'm blest if I know; he never told me, nor gave me time to ask." "But, father, you don't mean to say you let the room to him, without knowing his name?" "But I didn't let the room to him," said Mr. Jones; "it was he took it." "Well, that's queer!" said Mary. "Queer! I call it more than queer!" exclaimed the grocer, now turning indignant at the treatment he had received; "but he shan't sleep in it, though, till I've got his references, I can tell him." The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when into the shop again walked the stranger. "My name is Joseph Saunders," he said, briefly, "and if you want to know more, apply to Mr. Smithson, number thirteen, in the alley hard by. He'll give you all the particulars." Having delivered which piece of information, he once more vanished. Well, there was nothing to say to this; and Mr. Jones, who had an inquisitive temper, was preparing to dart off to Mr. Smithson's, who did indeed live hard by, when Mr. Joseph Saunders once more appeared. "P'r'aps you'd like the first week," he said; and without waiting for a reply, he laid four shillings down on the counter, and again disappeared --this time to return no more. Mary was very much struck. "He looks quite superior," she said, "quite. Saunders--Joseph Saunders! what a nice name." "That's all very well," replied her father, sweeping the four shillings into the till, "but I must have a word or two to say with Mr. Smithson-- for all that his name is Joseph Saunders." He took his hat, and walked out to seek Mr. Smithson, an old and stiff dealer in earthenware, who lived within a stone's-throw of the Teapot. The day was fine, and Mr. Smithson was airing his pans and dishes, and setting them along the pavement, like traps for the feet of unwary passengers. "Good-morning to you," began Jones, in a conciliating tone. "Good-morning!" replied, or rather, grunted Mr. Smithson, without taking the trouble to look up. "I have just come round to inquire about a young man--his name is Joseph Saunders. Do you know him?"