” “And now—I am to lose you. . ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood. Beneath the shelf, containing these books, hung the fine old ballad of 'St. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously. “But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. “I am frightened now.
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