“Isn’t Mousqueton there?”
“But he wears my livery; my livery will be known,” replied Porthos.
“He can turn his coat inside out.”
“You are always in the right, my dear friend,” cried Porthos; “but where the devil do you discover all the notions you put into practice?”
The two friends turned down the first street they came to. Porthos knocked at the door of a house to the right, whilst D’Artagnan knocked at the door of a house to the left.
“Some straw,” they said.
“Sir, we don’t keep any,” was the