“All your dreadful scientific things?” he said, with a smile that Miss Klegg thought extraordinarily kindly. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. When Ann Veronica got it she had at first a wild, fantastic idea that it contained a tip. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. "You're right Jack," he said, after a pause, during which he contemplated the picture with the most fixed attention: "this must have been my father!" "No doubt of it," answered Sheppard; "only compare it with Winny's drawing, and you'll find they're as like as two peas in a pod.
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