As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions. A jolly night we made of it, as you may suppose; for four such monarchs don't often come together. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. She was in excellent spirits, and it was not until she had taken off her hat, and was considering the question of dinner or no dinner, that she remembered that another day had passed, and she was not a whit nearer being able to pay her tomorrow’s bill. "Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion.
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