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Updated: May 19, 2025
Dunborough to go first, but he would not, and Soane, shrugging his shoulders, preceded him. The room into which they all crowded was no more than a closet, containing a dusty bureau propped on three legs, a few books, and Mr. Thomasson's robes, boots, and wig-stand.
The shadow of his wig, which Pomeroy had clapped on the wig-stand by the bed, nodded on the wall, as the draught moved the tails. Mr. Thomasson shivered, and, removing the candle as was his prudent habit of nights to the hearth, muttered that a goose was walking over his grave, undressed quickly, and jumped into bed.
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