" "Don't mention such a thing, Sir," interrupted the tapstress. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. “I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. ” “There are some French customs,” he declared, “which are admirable.
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