“Miserable bounder,” he murmured. She could think of nothing more to say. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked.
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