” She shrugged her shoulders and led him towards a small recess. Not my affair, of course, but I think we ought to teach them more or restrain them more. He tries hard to conceal it, but he cannot. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. "You were saying—?" "I started to say something; that is all. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure. But Darrell averted his head. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. Your aunt liked the pheasant.
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