By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest. At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. It was from Brendon. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. He looked half at her and half at the sky. “Mr. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. Get out your pad and pencil. I believe it amused him. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. "Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over.
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