Bad habit of mine, very bad habit,--walk along without looking.

Walked on a dog the other day; hurt dog; tumbled down myself, nearly broke my leg.

Bad habit, miss,--bad habit; too old to change, too old to change.

Beg pardon, miss." The old gentleman mumbled these curt phrases in a series of inarticulate jerks, as if his vocal apparatus were wound up and worked with a crank, but had grown so rusty that every now and then a wheel would catch on a cog.

He did not stand still for a moment, but kept continually stepping, stepping, without advancing or retreating, striking his heavy cane on the ground at each step, as if beating time to his jerky syllables.