E. 155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor. She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. ' Will that do?" "It will," replied Trenchard. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. " "I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly replenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the waterman and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-b'ye to your friend.
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