Mr. " "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes. Do they, Bess?" "Certainly not," replied the young lady appealed to, "especially about their sons. "Aw Come. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. '—'Oh! yes we are,' says he. ” They entered the place, a pleasant little café of the sort to be met with in the outlying parts of Paris.
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