Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature. "But, I half suspect, of your father. I must stay a minute longer, if only to see you smile. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. Parbleu, but she was a fool. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. "O, Lord!" ejaculated Wood. Her heavy pistol came up again, although she did not rise. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. " On a shelf was placed a row of paint-jars; the contents of which had been daubed in rainbow streaks upon the adjacent closet and window sill. C below. ‘I am not a fool. He has a grand time.
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