“Difficulties indeed. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. Are you satisfied?’ Grudgingly, Jack Kimble took back the coins. . To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. By this time, Jack's reputation had risen to such a height with the populace,—his exploits having become the universal theme of discourse, that the streets were almost impassable for the crowds collected to obtain a view of him.
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