Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. She could not say who, not yet. This was his sister, evidently in the last extremity. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls.
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