"I tell you what, Mr. Wood's," said the latter, "since I find him at his own gate. The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. " Mr. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. ‘Why have you come in here?’ demanded Melusine, turning on him.
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