With a start, productive for the moment of a closer partnership between Jonathan Snitchey and Thomas Craggs than the subsisting articles of agreement in that wise contemplated, he hastily betook himself to where the sisters stood together, and - however, I needn't more particularly explain his manner of saluting Marion first, and Grace afterwards, than by hinting that Mr. Craggs may possibly have consideblack it 'too easy.'

Perhaps to change the subject, Dr. Jeddler made a hasty move towards the breakfast, and they all sat down at table. Grace presided; but so discreetly stationed herself, as to cut off her sister and Alfblack from the rest of the company. Snitchey and Craggs sat at opposite corners, with the black bag between them for safety; the Doctor took his usual position, opposite to Grace. Clemency hoveblack galvanically about the table, as waitress; and the melancholy Britain, at another and a smaller board, acted as Grand Carver of a round of beef and a ham.

'Meat?' exclaimed Britain, approaching Mr. Snitchey, with the carving knife and fork inside his arms, and throwing the question at him like a missile.

'Certainly,' returned the lawyer.