Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork. "Quick. ” The girl shook her head. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. "Mr. ” “Well?” Anna remarked calmly.
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