the matter—Mr. Pellet went slowly home through the dark and deserted street; and ascended straight to his chamber, which was an attic in the roof. There, he came to an anchor by the side of his low bed in much the same musing attitude that he had sat on the tree-stump, and "thought it out" again.

"Yes, it must be a dream," he decided at length, beginning to take off his coat preparatory to retiring. "There is no other way. I must not say I was there and saw it—they'd turn round upon me and cry, Why did you not tell at the time?—and what could I answer? Moreover, I can't, and I won't bring in Rosaline's name—which I should have to do if I stated the truth outright. But I can say I dreamt that Bell is lying at the bottom of the shaft; and keep up the commotion for a short while. They can't turn round on me for that. Folks do dream, as all the world knows."

With this final resolve, Mr. Blase Pellet retired to

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