The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. " "That's the way it goes. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. I proceeded to Manchester, to investigate the matter further, and when there ascertained, beyond a doubt, that you were the eldest daughter of Sir Montacute Trenchard. ‘I have a very good mind to do so, imbecile. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts.
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