"Spring!—I never knew any. Give me that precious charge," he added, snatching the bundle from Wood. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces.
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