The last time Pottiswick had called out the militia on suspicion of intruders in Remenham House, a large rodent had been all the spoil. works. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. “He is a sad blunderer. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. " "Then you're heartily welcome, Sir, whoever you are.
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