" "That's what troubles me," rejoined Ben. Her thoughts were busy with the possibilities of this break in her journey. 5. But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before.
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