At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. “What are you doing?” He cried. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. I was not even sure whether it was loaded. "I'm glad to hear it, that's all," he added, taking out his snuff-box, his never-failing resource in such emergencies.
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