Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. Damn! I’ve splashed. If he did resemble me, I shouldn't care about him. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow.
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