This left Spurlock alone. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. His aunt, here at McClintock's? It was unbelievable. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. I hope that she is okay. " "Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded, irascibly. Her new husband was pleased to watch the astonished look on her face as tray after tray appeared on the grand table, each better than the next. But this was long ago.
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