“It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. ‘I know just what he was doing. ‘How dull it must have been for you, poor little one. They’re fairly intricate little things. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. "While I live you are safe," rejoined Trenchard; "after my death I can answer for nothing. See what a horrible rascal you've let loose upon the world!" "I'm sure, mother," rejoined Winifred, "if any one was likely to feel resentment, I was; for no one could be more frightened. "Do you think I'd take the trouble to announce him? These are persons of consequence, I tell you.
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