"'Tain't no use o' my washin' ye.

Ye're full o' thistles and jest as dirty as when I throwed ye in the water.

Come out o' that, I tell ye! Now, Meg, darlin'"-- this came in a coaxing tone--"come out like a good dog--sure I'm not goin' in them brambles to hunt ye!" A clatter of hoofs rang out on the morning air.

A two-wheeled gig drawn by a well-groomed sorrel horse and followed by a brown-haired Irish setter was approaching.

In it sat a man of thirty, dressed in a long, mouse-colored surtout with a wide cape falling to the shoulders.