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"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. He will be here in a moment or so, and you will then learn his determination. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously.
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