The last syllable rose to a shout. Mr. Josiah Crosbie, a ruddy-complexioned old gentleman, benevolent as to his head, gouty as to his feet, and impatient as to his manners, paused thereafter, and listened. No response came. Evidently unaccustomed to wait other people's convenience, he made his way with some difficulty to the study door, brought down his stick with a sounding rap, and sent forth a stentorian summons,— A lady entered by the back garden door, and crossed the hall to his side, with the question, "Did you want anything?"…
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