"Lard a-mighty!" exclaimed Mrs. Squallop, faintly, the moment that this strange apparition had presented itself; and sinking on the chair, she pointed with a dismayed air to the ominous-looking object standing on the window shelf. Titmouse thence inferred that she had found out the true state of the case. "Well--_isn't_ it an infernal shame, Mrs. Squallop?" said he, getting off the bed; and, plucking off his nightcap, he exhibited the full extent of his misfortune. "What d'ye think of _that_!" he exclaimed, staring wildly at her. Mrs. Squallop gave a faint shriek, turned her head aside, and motioned him away. "I shall go mad--I SHALL!" cried Titmouse, tearing his green hair. "Oh Lord!--oh Lord!" groaned Mrs. Squallop, evidently expecting him to leap upon her. Presently, however, she a little recovered her presence of mind; and Titmouse, stuttering with fury, explained to her what had taken place. As he went on, Mrs. Squallop became less and less able to control herself, and at length burst into a fit of convulsive laughter, and sat holding her hands to her fat shaking sides, and appearing likely to tumble off her chair. Titmouse was almost on the point of striking her! At length, however, the fit went off; and wiping her eyes, she expressed the greatest commiseration for him, and proposed to go down and fetch up some soft soap and flannel, and try what "a good hearty wash would do." Scarce sooner said than done--but, alas, in vain! Scrub, scrub--lather, lather, did they both; but, the instant that the soap-suds had been washed off, there was the head as green as ever! "Oh, murder, murder! what _am_ I to do, Mrs. Squallop?" groaned Titmouse, having taken another look at himself in the glass. "Why--really I'd be off to a police-office, and have 'em all taken up, if as how I was _you!_" quoth Mrs. Squallop. "No--See if I don't take that bottle, and make the fellow that sold it me swallow what's left--and I'll smash in his shop front besides!" "Oh, you won't--you mustn't--not on no account! Stop at home a bit, and be quiet; it may go off with all this washing, in the course of the day. Soft soap is an uncommon strong thing for getting colors out--but--a--a--excuse me now, Mr. Titmouse"--said Mrs. Squallop, seriously--"why wasn't you satisfied with the hair God Almighty had given you? D' ye think He didn't know a deal better than you what was best for you? I'm blest if I don't think this is a judgment on you, when one comes to consider!" "What's the use of your standing preaching to me in this way, Mrs. Squallop?" said Titmouse, first with amazement, and then with fury in his manner--"A'n't I half mad without it? Judgment or no judgment--where's the harm of my wanting black hair any more than black trousers? That a'n't _your own_ hair, Mrs. Squallop--you're as gray as a badger underneath--'pon my soul! I've often remarked it--I _have_, 'pon my soul!"