Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. Her figure was, in some measure, hidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded. Hanging about! And they start thinking and asking questions, and begin to be neither one thing nor the other. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old. ‘Eh bien, Eugénie. Gosse had hidden himself successfully then.
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