Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. Getting back the ice was rather a serious affair. 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. " "Hold!" interposed Winifred, gravely. She was dropped off at 2:30 at Whitefield Park, a huge extravagantly lit field in the new part of town.
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