Ann Veronica had a number of fragmentary impressions of Alice strangely transfigured in bridal raiment. All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. So long as matters remain as they are, and they found me, there would be no shame for Ruth. I fancy that this is a little more than playing at Bohemianism.
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