"He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. His revelry, however, was put an end at the expiration of the time mentioned by Jonathan, by the entrance of a posse of constables with Quilt Arnold and Abraham Mendez at their head. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. You two have a good time. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. " The spinsters had no counter-philosophy to offer; so they turned to Ruth, who had singularly and unconsciously invested herself with glamour, the glamour of adventure, which the old maids did not recognize as such because they were only tourists. He was a stranger. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake.
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