On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Then he put the paper by. For what could be more ironical than for Howard Spurlock to see himself grow famous under the name of Taber? The ambrosia of which he had so happily dreamt!—and this gall and wormwood! He stood up and rapped his pipe on the rail. Wood. “You knew it,” he added, in her momentary silence. Even in her hatred, she began to realize that Sebastian’s intelligence was much greater than Gianfrancesco’s. "At length, I have my wish," continued Mrs.
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