"Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. Wood; "to be sure you are! I wonder how you dare show your face in this house, hussy!" "I thought you sent for me, Ma'am," replied the widow, humbly. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties.
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