E. ’ Baring his teeth in a smile of triumph that was every bit an animal snarl, and leaping up onto the seat of the pew he was in, he jumped hazardously to the next. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. He was amused. But Enschede took them as they came, without question. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall.
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