At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. "Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. "'T is he!" he mentally ejaculated. Life’s hard enough nowadays for an unprotected male. Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. Le Mercier and Stowe of St. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. At last, she breathed. I was mean to him. Get me an interview with her. He had meant to come at his business in a roundabout way, but for that little slip. Abruptly the sterner look vanished and she twinkled.
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