“Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. " "A lie!" exclaimed Jack in a terrible tone. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. Stanley decided to treat that as irrelevant. The light!—the light!" Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. 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.
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