Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. . Mr. Immediately after it, he was off again, and that, let me tell you, was the last anyone saw of him. Anna never knew whither it had led her— sometimes she had fears. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt.
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