" "You think so, eh?" chuckled Shotbolt, who was eagerly perusing the reward, and congratulating himself upon his caution; "you think so—ha! ha! Well, don't go to bed, that's all. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. These festivities, however, were not witnessed by the newly-married pair, who had departed immediately after the ceremony for Manchester. Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. .
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