"Yes; serenading the young ladies,--the Feet." "Toney, is that correct?" "What?" "The Feet." "Do you not say the Browns and the Smiths?" "Certainly." "What is the plural of Foot?" "Feet." "Of course. You would not have me say Foots?" "It is a question of philology which I am unable to determine." "Let us go in," said Toney. He pulled the bell, and a servant appeared, and ushered them into a parlor, where sat Mrs. Foot with her three daughters, and three female friends. The Professor was introduced by Toney to the lady of the house, and then to Cleopatra, Theodosia, and Sophonisba; after which ceremony, the two gentlemen were introduced by Mrs. Foot to Mrs. Cross, Mrs. Hobbs, and Mrs. Smart. "Oh, Mr. Belton," said the gigantic mother of the three stupendous sisters, "I am so glad you have come! Have you heard anything?" "In respect to what?" asked Toney. "The Woolly Horse!" said Mrs. Foot. "The Woolly Horse!" exclaimed Mrs. Cross. "The Woolly Horse!" cried Mrs. Hobbs. "Who was the man on the Woolly Horse?" eagerly inquired Mrs. Smart. The young ladies said nothing; but half a dozen blue eyes belonging to the young ladies aforesaid were intently fixed on Toney, in expectation of his answer. Toney was silent. Mrs. Foot arose from her chair and came close to him. Her three female friends made a similar movement, and Toney was surrounded. "Have you heard anything?" reiterated Mrs. Foot. "Who was the man on the Woolly Horse?" screamed Mrs. Smart. "Indeed, madam, that is just what I would like to know," said Toney. The expression of eager expectation on the countenance of each lady was instantly changed to one of sad disappointment. "He don't know," sighed Mrs. Foot. "He don't know," said Mrs. Cross, with a profound suspiration. "It is too bad!" exclaimed Mrs. Hobbs. "That nobody should know who was the man on the Woolly Horse!" said Mrs. Smart, in extreme vexation. "My friend Mr. Tickle may know," said Toney, with a mischievous twinkle of his eye, as he directed their attention to the Professor, who was instantly surrounded. "Who was it, Mr. Tickle?" said Mrs. Foot. "Who was it?" exclaimed Mrs. Cross. "Oh, dear! who was it?" cried Mrs. Hobbs. "Mr. Tickle, who was the man on the Woolly Horse?" screamed Mrs. Smart. "Ladies," said the Professor, with profound gravity, "it may have been an Osage Indian carrying a Woolly Horse, which he had captured in the Rocky Mountains, to Barnum." "It was an Osage Indian on the Woolly Horse!" screamed Mrs. Smart. "No, it wasn't an Osage Indian," said Mrs. Tongue, who had entered the room unobserved. She was instantly surrounded. "Who was it? Who was it?" was asked and reiterated. "Wait until I get my breath," said Mrs. Tongue, sinking into a chair. "Bless me! I have walked so fast!" "Who was it? Who was it? Who was it?" came with reiterations from several female voices while the lady was employed in getting her breath.