"No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to another. " "Waste not another word with him, Thames," cried Jack. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,” he said. You have the ideas. I don’t know that I understand altogether.
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