" "You mustn't think of that, Mrs. Go out there and head him off, will you? Tell him anything you like, but don’t let him in, and don’t tell him Melusine is here. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. The infant was rescued from a watery-grave by an honest mechanic, who has since brought him up as his own son. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. He had need of all the inexhaustible energy of his character to support him through his toilsome walk over the wet grass, or along the slippery ploughed land.
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