" Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. 'Sdeath! what can I have done with it? Oh! here it is," cried Hogarth, picking it from the ground. " Sheppard cordially returned the pressure; and, cautioning Thames, "not to let the ruffles drop, or they might tell a tale," began to warble the following fragment of a robber melody:— "Oh! give me a chisel, a knife, or a file, And the dubsmen shall find that I'll do it in style! Tol-de-rol!" "Vot the devil are you about, noisy?" inquired Abraham. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own. I have always had a secret crush on him, to be honest with you. So Ruth returned to her room and sorted the books and magazines the doctor had loaned her, inspected the titles and searched for pictures. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense.
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