Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. "Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs.
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