He never imagined his heart could beat as quickly as it did when after a long search he read the words--"Galloway House.

Select School for Little Boys," inscribed on a board in the front garden of a small, old- fashioned house in Ebor Road.
The sound of children's voices in the yard at the side apprised him that he had called at a fortunate time.

Mrs Trimble during the play-hour would in all probability be disengaged.
Mrs Trimble was disengaged, and opened the door herself.

Jeffreys beheld a stoutish harmless-looking woman, with a face by no means forbidding, even if it was decidedly unintellectual.
"Well, young man," said she.

She had been eating, and, I regret to say, had not finished doing so before she began to speak.
"Can I see Mrs Trimble, please ?" asked Jeffreys, raising his hat.