The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Darell's peculiar bent of mind was exemplified in a rusty broadsword, a tall grenadier's cap, a musket without lock or ramrod, a belt and cartouch-box, with other matters evincing a decided military taste. He was as hard as a rock. She knew the truth of it all right. " "Oh, Jack!" cried his mother, falling upon his neck, and covering him with kisses. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends.
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