But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. “I do wish you and your father could come to some agreement. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil. ” “Except,” said Constance, surveying her work with her head on one side, “to keep the matches from the litter.
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