It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,” he said. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. She sighed with relief. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. When Jeremiah admired the Compasses in the arms of the Carpenter's Company over the chimney-piece, or the portraits of the two eminent masters of the rule and plane, William Portington, and John Scott, Esquires, on either side of it, Solomon was lost in wonder. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. “I am so very, very sorry. "Good night, Master.
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