It’s—Mrs. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. "Ah! who have we here?" exclaimed Griffin. "Yes, now," rejoined the infuriated dame; "perhaps, I may never have another opportunity. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son.
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