At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. "By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago.
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