‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. Challenge accepted. Mr. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. “Thank you,” she said coolly. The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. An uncomfortable silence followed. And she would have to go tomorrow. "Your son," answered the boy. David Courtlaw.
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