I meant it for a work-basket, and was overwhelmed with confusion when some silly lady said at the marriage, and in the hearing of the bride and bridegroom, that it was the most beautiful cradle she had ever seen.

Of course, like a fool, I tried to explain, whereon everybody tittered.
But why do I write of such trifles that have nothing to do with my story?
I mentioned that I had ventured to send a letter to Miss Margaret Manners about Mr.Charles Scroope, in which I said incidentally that if the hero should happen to live I should probably bring him home by the next mail.

Well, we got into Plymouth about eight o'clock in the morning, on a mild, November day, and shortly afterwards a tug arrived to take off the passengers and mails; also some cargo.

I, being an early riser, watched it come and saw upon the deck a stout lady wrapped in furs, and by her side a very pretty, fair-haired young woman clad in a neat serge dress and a pork-pie hat.

Presently a steward told me that someone wished to speak to me in the saloon.