Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. 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. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. “Sure, but it’s not like you’re married, you know. “Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up.
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