"Going to befuddle himself between now and dinner," was the comment of Prudence. If they hadn't sent for me, you'd have pegged out before morning. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. " Sister Prudence looked at Sister Angelina, who understood what was expected of her. Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction.
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