We may be stopped. Lad, that fuddles me!" "Did you bring me down here to crucify me?" cried Spurlock, in passionate rebellion. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. But it is only fair to warn you that it isn’t expected. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. CHAPTER XII. Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips. “As a matter of fact, I deserve to. He was heartily thankful for it. I love some one else.
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