A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. "Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly. Wood having disposed of the brandy, and pronounced himself much better, hurried close to the fire-side, and informed his friend in a few words of the inhospitable treatment he had experienced from the gentlemen of the Mint; whereupon Mr. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough. His hesitation was visible, and Spurlock took advantage of this to run to Ruth. "I can't say I do," replied Wood.
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