Melusine sighed with frustration. "I don't think he would leave me, even if I could part with him," observed Mrs. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. One must be on guard. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword.
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