The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland. "I know not—and care not," replied Jack. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. "But, I say, that girl is a queer one. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously.
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