The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard. We've ridden post all the way, and I'm horribly tired, or you wouldn't have mastered me so easily. " "Zounds!" cried Marvel, "I—" "Hush!" whispered the tapstress, "or I retract my promise.
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