’ Melusine’s voice petered out. It was for ever. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing 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. Instead of which they walked sharply.
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