A chair was placed for her, and she sat down, desperately watching the reader for the fall of his voice.

The period was singularly protracted.

The ladies turned to one another, to question with an eyelid why it was that extra allowance was given that morning.

Mr.Pole was in a third prayer, stumbling on and picking himself up, apparently unaware that he had passed the limit.
This continued until the series of ejaculations which accompanied him waxed hotter--little muffled shrieks of: "Oh!--Deer--Oh, Lard!--When will he stop?
Oh, mercy! Och! And me burrstin' to speak!--Oh! what'll I do?
I can't keep 't in!--Pole! ye're kill'n me--Oh, deer! I'll be sayin' somethin' to vex the prophets presently.

Pole!" If it was a race that he ran with Mrs.Chump, Mr.Pole was beaten.