But I swear she ain’t told me nothing more, sir. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. Stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate whether he had not gone too far. I may add that the family is well known to me. She’s hated me for no apparent reason ever since Fourth Grade.
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