A sudden knock at the door startled her. “Eight, Cavendish Square. At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. " "Do not needlessly alarm me, I beseech you," replied Winifred. Footman or some such. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home. Once a sick sailor drew three pictures for me and set down every stay and brace and sail—square-rigger, schooner, and sloop. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed.
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