A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. We shall see. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. I don't believe his name is Taber. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. The hotel manager was expostulating and Ah Cum was replying by a series of expressive shrugs.
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