Halloa, Ben!" cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm,—"scullers wanted. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. Sheppard had been interred. Probably something he had eaten. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. What a wonderful world it is!" Music. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind.
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