But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. —Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way.
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