At first she thought that the woman was just a servant. Too late now. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort. How old are you?’ ‘I have nineteen years, and it is quite unimportant. E. Petals!. I'm crazy over music, too. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. Mr. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON.
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