‘Kill him? Oh. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. " With your foodle doo! "Thames Darrell has my heart alone, A noble youth, e'en you must own; And, if from him my love could stir, Jack Sheppard I should much prefer!" With his foodle doo! "Do you refuse my toast?" cried Jack, impatiently.
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