Sheppard prepared for church. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Besides, by the time they were off his hands, old McClintock would be dropping in to have his liver renovated. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. “I would rather put up with your own efforts, however clumsy. Far too old to ask you on your first date.
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