" "Thought so. 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. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice. “Like what, Lucy?” She saw the panic threaten to overtake him. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain.
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