It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. ” “To bad rubbish. It is nothing at all for you to worry about. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. The man himself was not a pleasant object.
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