The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. The unknown, previously so attractive, now presented another face—blank. "Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way.
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