"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, "I'm very sorry, but I really can't."
"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.
"I can't let you in, sir,--I can't, indeed; my brothers would beat me to
death, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"
"Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly, "I want fire and shelter;
and there's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the
walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only want to warm
myself."
Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window, that he
began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned, and
saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long bright
tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savory
smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should
he burning away for nothing. "He does look _very_ wet," said little
Gluck; "I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour." Round he went to
the door, and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in, through
the house came a gust of wind that made the old chimneys totter.
"That's a good boy:" said the little gentleman. "Never mind your
brothers. I'll talk to them."
"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay
till they come; they'd be the death of me.
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