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She is known everywhere within the radius of five hundred miles. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. Mrs. 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. Horrible doubts assailed her. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. Wood in their favour.
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