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 Yale spirit! James Boyle O'Higgins was, as the saying goes, somewhat out of luck. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. ’ ‘They? How many are there?’ ‘Oh, peste.
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