"O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil!—Gone?" cried Ireton. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. " "Never," echoed Smith, emphatically, "upon my honour. She slid the dress off, naked underneath. I'll speak to McClintock to-night and see if he won't take us for a junket on The Tigress.
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