Wood and Thames pass him, and followed at a foot's pace behind them. He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. The little streaks upon the germinating area of an egg, the nervous movements of an impatient horse, the trick of a calculating boy, the senses of a fish, the fungus at the root of a garden flower, and the slime upon a sea-wet rock—ten thousand such things bear their witness and are illuminated. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. There was a strained, eager expression on his face.
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