O God! O God!" And he appeared convulsed with agony. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U. " "I'm satisfied with your assurance," replied the carpenter, drily.
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