The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. "I never wear false whiskers," went on O'Higgins. Wood?" "With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper. “Boys!” said Capes. ” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness.
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