"There never was a man built for the chair like Bob Eccles I say! Our evening's broke up, and I, for one, 'd ha' made it morning.

Hark, outside; By Gearge! they're snowballing." An adjournment to the front door brought them in view of a white and silent earth under keen stars, and Dick Curtis and the bilious boatbuilder, foot to foot, snowball in hand.

A bout of the smart exercise made Mr.Moody laugh again, and all parted merrily, delivering final shots as they went their several ways.
"Thanks be to heaven for snowing," said Mrs.Boulby; "or when I should have got to my bed, Goodness only can tell!" With which, she closed the door upon the empty inn..