On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. You only live a block away!” 236 “I’ll do my best.
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