"It is", seplied Winifred; "have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell!" "Troth have I!" replied Terence: "but, bless your angilic face, how did you contrive to guess that?" "Is he well?—is he safe?—is he coming back," cried the little girl, disregarding the question. At least here she was safe. " "And why not, old saltwater?" inquired Ben, turning a quid in his mouth. " "What a mistake!" "Yes. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. "Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other.
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