"I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. You will be with me.
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