“I wrote it for you. Buck up. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. “You know nothing about the stage. I know now what it is to be an abandoned female. But if that can possibly be done I want it to be done. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Groans and hoots were now raised by the crowd, and there was an evident disposition to rescue. ' Upon which the other answered, 'that he accepted his invitation with pleasure, and would make a point of waiting upon him,' Ha! ha! ha!" "Did he say so?" cried Shotbolt. Talk to her of the new story; divert her; for this day her heart has been twisted sorely. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. .
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