" "I will—I will," replied Wood hastily. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. “I suppose you could at least tune it for us if you know how to play. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. They fight over money all of the time. The delight of the turnkeys was beyond all bounds; but poor Mrs.
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