The Wreck of the South Pole and Other Strange Tales — page 200: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Little Girl, Now a Woman. 193 and polished, but it had a queer way of slanting backward on one side and forward on the other that no amount of oil or polishing could rectify. His whiskers consisted of a thin, wiry mustache and a moderately heavy crop under his chin, of which Tom was very proud. Just awakened from sleep, I could not help smiling as I shouted the directions in his ear and in return received a low, thin answer that would have done credit to one in the last stages of consumption. He smiled, and seemed so completely taken with the idea that he smiled on all through the interview. And when he bent over me at three o’clock in the morning to wake me, he was smiling still. This was our first meeting, and after the kindness shown us, I took pains to cultivate his acquaintance. At first he always touched his old straw hat when we met, and smiled that peculiar smile of his, but as we grew more intimate, he ceased the former. and I forgot to notice the latter. One evening I visited him in his room, which was up over a hardware store on Main street, and was approached by a dark entry with irregular steps, and boxes and boards in the passage, which rendered it a dangerous route for inexperienced travelers, even at midday. It was a regu- lar bachelor’s den, with a bed and cooking-stove and other necessary furniture for keeping house. Tom was at supper when I entered, and after he had finished his solitary meal we drew our chairs close to- gether and he told me the story of his life. It was sad, COnnicloool S (SO)