\"You're a shoo in. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. "A friend," replied Jonathan, uncocking the pistol, and placing it in his pocket. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior.
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