" "Aw light!" The two old friends held each other off at arms' length for inspection; this proving satisfactory, they began to prod and pummel one another affectionately. This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and closeshaven pate. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. She had not seen Ramage for ten or eleven days, and she was quite ready for a gossip with him. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. But it is my fault. "Hoddy, Hoddy!… No, no! This is my father!" warned Ruth.
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