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’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. Wood started to his feet. Having drunk as much as he thought prudent, and thanked his unknown friend for his attention, Jack again lay down on the straw, and indulged himself with another nap, intending to get up as soon as it was perfectly dark. “I can teach them so many things! Music, Latin, mathematics! Please do not take my Anna and Fritz away!” It was of no use. The smell of laundry detergent was noticeable, the bed sheets very tightly stretched across the bed, tucked in on three sides. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing.
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