Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. " "Bring your story to an end, Sir," said Trenchard who had listened to the recital with mingled emotions of rage and fear. “I feared we might have a fog. “I may be leaving where I am in a few days, so very likely you will be no better off. "Jack," said the other, sternly; "don't provoke me further, or I'll give you a thrashing. Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. She decided not to ask him outright if he wished to make love to her. ” Lucy would always press her face into her mother’s skirts when she heard the ending, no matter how many times she heard it.
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