"Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. Their example was immediately imitated by the officers, constables, javelin men, and other attendants; and nothing was to be heard but shouts of laughter and jesting,—nothing seen but the passing of glasses, and the emptying of foaming jugs. Horribly skinny he was, and short too. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner.
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