Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. 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. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue. Take it, if I die. Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. He’s riding down the drive. Mrs. '" "What is that?" she asked. “GOOD CATCH, ALBERT!” A husky girl had bayed as she witnessed the puck’s abrupt flight. " "All right; and thank you. And, dragging Mrs. I can.
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