Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow. ‘Here you, Pottiswick. Wood's house at Dollis Hill on Tuesday'—that's two days ago,—'hasn't been heard of since. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. The manager twisted his moustache. “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest.
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