" "I've no intention of stirring," replied the woollen-draper, who was thus unceremoniously disturbed: "and I beg you'll sit down, Mr. ” A flush of excitement crept into her cheeks. She was always initiating petty breaches of discipline. I had never dreamed of such a friend as you. Died short, I suppose, and the girls had to shift for themselves. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. He's a hundred miles sou'-east of me. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face.
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