S. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. The work itself was refreshingly tonal, Sebastian observed. "You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess.
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