. . I won't have a beachcomber on the island. ’ She seemed to recollect herself suddenly. "Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. " The answer to this request was a "smack" of a very different description, bestowed upon Sheppard's outstretched face by the little damsel, as she ran out of the room. " The order was promptly obeyed. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position.
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