Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Finding remonstrances of no avail, he had recourse to threats; and when threats failed, he adopted more decided measures. “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. He woke up with a start and the alarm clock read 4:46 P. Was the girl seriously expecting him to pull the trigger? Lord, but she had courage! ‘Shoot, then,’ urged the lady. Chapter XVI THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN Sir John looked from one to the other of the two sisters.
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