“Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. The cage at Willesden was, and is—for it is still standing—a small round building about eight feet high, with a pointed tiled roof, to which a number of boards, inscribed with the names of the parish officers, and charged with a multitude of admonitory notices to vagrants and other disorderly persons, are attached. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. Don’t leave me. Their laughter, together with the agonized yowling of the dog, drew a circle of wondering natives; and at length McClintock himself came over to see what the racket was about. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald.
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