Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. Thames sprang to his feet, and half drew his sword, while Wood, removing his spectacles to assure himself that his eyes did not deceive him, exclaimed in a tone and with a look that betrayed the extremity of surprise—"Jack Sheppard!" "Jack Sheppard!" echoed the maid. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. Don’t think I can’t sympathize and understand. Sit down, I command you. . Tum, tum, tirray, tum, tum, tum, te-tum—that thing of Mendelssohn’s! If making one human being absolutely happy is any satisfaction to you—” He held out his hands, and she also stood up. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door.
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