Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. The tiles lay a foot thick in the road. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. "Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable. " "Thank'ee, Sir," grinned Sheppard. “You will not even answer my letters. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. His nose was large but also fine and angular, tapering to a point at the end like a nobleman’s. The stain was blood, but this was a stain that resulted from being up one’s elbows in blood! She smiled a nurse’s knowing smile.
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