"Let me see," replied Wood; "exactly twelve years ago last November. Ennison, or any other young man. The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. " "I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered Wood. Bribble’s rendering of the service —he had the sort of voice that brings out things—and was still teeming with ideas about it when finally a wild outburst from the organ made it clear that, whatever snivelling there might be down in the chancel, that excellent wind instrument was, in its Mendelssohnian way, as glad as ever it could be. "I rather fancy, as you Britishers say, that you know the nature of my visit?" "I'm an American. " "Tell it. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter.
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