"Mr. She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. “You should quit. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. " "Sir," said the chief turnkey, indignantly. O'Higgins wandered into this street and that, studying the signs and resenting the Britisher's wariness in using too much tin and paint. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Oh! Jack, Jack, you've much to answer for!" "I have, indeed," replied Sheppard, in a tone of contrition. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. "Mercy!" screamed Mrs.
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