235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection. Wood mentions?" inquired Jackson, as soon as the clatter that succeeded Mr. Even Ah Cum had resumed his Oriental shell of reserve. . ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. No: I must face it out. Red apples and snow! How often had these two things entered his thoughts since his wanderings began? Red apples and snow!—and never again to behold them! "I am going out for a little while," she said. Wood, I command you not to stir," vociferated the carpenter's better-half; "recollect you'll be answerable to me. ” She laughed.
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