"Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle. Her patience was waning fast. Thus, all her interest in life began to centre upon the patient, who was apparently quite as anchorless as she was. "We never suffer him to mention Mr.
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