"The speedy union of Thames Darrell with Winifred Wood," replied Jack. Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. He saw his father, calling to him from an icy white tunnel, beckoning to him. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. Should be home soon.
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