The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. The horse-soldiers wheeled round and cleared a path: the foot closed in upon the cart. She had never had a pet, never had a real doll. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. “Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you,” she begged. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. " "Who are they?" inquired Sheppard. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. "I've done all I can to the portrait here.
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