who retailed a store of faded learning in the Tredgold laboratory. It was a haunted place. After a brief conversation, which Sheppard sustained with his accustomed liveliness, the old man turned to Bess and addressed a few words of common-place gallantry to her. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. “You cowards!” said Ann Veronica, “put her down!” and tore herself from a detaining hand and battered with her fists upon the big red ear and blue shoulder of the policeman who held the little old lady. “Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was that it had rather a light way with parental rights. “In a sort of beautiful garden-close—wearing lovely dresses and picking beautiful flowers?” “Ah! If one could!” “While those other girls trudge to business and those other women let lodgings. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly.
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