” “You all seem to be trying to pull my leg,” Sir John remarked quietly. And, by way of checking his housekeeper's familiarity, he pointed significantly to the table. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. He kept his keen eyes steadily fixed on Thames, as if awaiting to be addressed. "Oh! they are—are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; "that'll do. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. The softly glittering summer stars! She saw them shining over mountains of snow, over valleys of haze and warm darkness.
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