On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. She pulled the trigger. "What did you do?" he asked, in a broken voice. "I can do without it," muttered Jack. A new restlessness seemed to have stolen in upon her. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. You’re a far cry from your usual gloomy self these days.
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