I'll Don't Miss Kathy

A handsome oak bedstead, with ample crimson curtains of rather expensive material and modern make, but they had evidently experienced rough usage. I was endeavouring to gather resolution for entering and taking possession when my fool of a guide announced, this is masters. My supper by this time was cold, my appetite gone, and my patience exhausted. I insisted on being provided instantly with a place of refuge and means of repose. An unexpected aid presently appeared in the shape of Throttler, whom I now recognized as a son of our old Skullker. It pushed its nose against mine by way of salute, and then hastened to devour the porridge while I groped from step to step