These thoughts, however, came to a broken end. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. Wood. I will endeavour. A lesson learned. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. CHAPTER I. Wood laughed louder than ever. The former was shot by Blueskin through the head, and his body fell over the bannisters. “I ought never have gone to the Zoo, I suppose. Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up.
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