Here the hickory-nut as a simile goes all to pieces. These eyes are the flash from some distant lighthouse, burning dull when the commonplace of life passes before him, and bursting into effulgence when something touches his heart or stirs his imagination. Downtown in the Dismal Tomb even the lighthouse goes to smash. Here the eyes set so far back in his head that they look for all the world like two wary foxes peeping out of a hole, losing nothing of what is going on outside--never being fooled, never being wheedled or coaxed out of their retreat. "Can't fool Mr. Griggs," some broker says, as he tries to get his papers signed out of his turn. Uptown these same foxes are running around loose in an abandonment of jollity, frisking here and there, all restraint cast aside--trusting everybody--and glad to. That's why I couldn't understand his tone of voice when I opened his door. "Not sick, old fellow?" I cried. He had not yet lifted his head or vouchsafed a single word of welcome. "Yes, sick at heart. My old carcass is all right, but inside--way down where a man lives--I'm sick unto death. Take a look at the mantelpiece. You see my best miniature's gone, don't you?" "Not the Cosway?" "Yes, the Cosway!" "Stolen?" "Worse than stolen! Oh, my boy, such mean people live in the world! I couldn't believe it possible. I've read in the papers something like it, but that I should have been--oh, I can't get over it! It haunts me like a ghost. It isn't the value--it's the way it was done; and I was so helpless, and I meant only to be kind." The other men had arrived now and the three of us were ranged around Peter in a circle, wondering with wide-opened eyes at his tone of voice, his dismal expression, and especially at the air of dejection which seemed to ooze through every square inch of his calico dressing-gown. "Sit down, all of you," he continued "and listen. And it's all your fault. If only one of you had come up to see me! I waited and waited; I knew most of you would be off somewhere eating your Thanksgiving turkey, but that every mother's son of you should have forgotten me--that's what I won't forgive you for." We, with one accord, began to make excuses, but he waved us into silence.