“Great!” Cathy squealed. . Her head ached with a hollow pain. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. The inn was a military haunt. " "That's what troubles me," rejoined Ben. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. . At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it.
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