" "O Heavens!" screamed Winifred, while her father lifted up his hands in silent horror. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. She sat herself upon the bed. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. “Mr. ‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. She lay still for a long time, and her mind resumed at a more tolerable pace. Michelle answered the door.
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