Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. There were no mourners. ’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. I presume that I may not kiss you in the street?” “Certainly not, sir,” she replied, laughing. Brown was no fool, and he understood the sudden onus of the other children to share the limelight. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud.
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