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And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. “I throw it out in passing,” he said. They want some fun, and there isn't any. . . ” “You have not told me yet,” Annabel said, “how it is that you have dared to personate me. CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster.
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