Mike chimed in. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. "My enemy," replied her son. 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 door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. 1.
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