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" "Never fear," replied Thames, taking up his hat. She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. Not a breath was drawn. ’ Melusine sighed deeply. She had narrowly escaped Martin in Orchestra class, who had been wrapped up discussing a new piece of his with Mr. 'He that woos a maid',— fol-de-rol—(hiccupping). “Or I wouldn’t have said anything about it. She lost it in the Mint. ” “Come, Molly,” said Mr. Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. He would take with him that traitress Yolande, and claim to the lawyer that this was Melusine Charvill. But he was always forcing her to say and do such unexpectedly conclusive things. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. .
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