"What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. Come, make yourself scarce. She leaped suddenly at a desperate resolution, and in one moment had made it into a new self. ’ ‘Captain Roding, sir,’ put in Gerald, adding on a jocular note, ‘Another of the green whippersnappers you had to contend with some years back.
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