—Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. ’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. I'm a slave to my word. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. Will you lend me the money for my ticket to London?” “With all the pleasure in the world,” he answered heartily. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen-draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business.
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