No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. Another long interval elapsed. Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. "Is it poison?" she asked. Give me but leave to try.
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