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It was after all a momentary affair. "What has happened?" asked Sister Prudence. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. His orgasm was quick, spasmodic.
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