" Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. " "My penance forbids it," said Trenchard, waving his hand. “I expected you this morning,” he said. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. ’ ‘What, even less delightful than Gerald?’ enquired Lucilla, her eyes dancing. "You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. “He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands.
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