glass, so bright was their condition, so good their quality. Mrs. Braithwaite watched me from the door.
“I doubt you’ll be thinking them’s our own,” said she. “I wish they were; t’squire sent ‘em in this afternoon.”
“For my use?”
“Ay; I doubt he thought what we had ourselves wasn’t good enough. An’ it’s him ‘at sent t’ armchair, t’bed-linen, t’bath, an’ that there lookin’-glass an’ all.”
She had followed me into the bedroom, where I looked with redoubled interest at each object as she mentioned
“I’ve got it, sir.”
“Well, fetch it along, and come you in, Mr. Bowles; likely you may think o’ somethin’.”
A reddish, hook-nosed man, with a jaunty, wicked look, came and smiled upon me in the friendliest fashion; the smell of onions became more than I knew how to endure.
“Ever hear of the ship