Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. ” He replied, and put his face in between her legs. "Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation.
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