If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. "Lend a hand with the ruffles, Blueskin!" he shouted, as that personage, who had just recovered from the stunning effects of the blow, contrived to pick himself up. I haven’t, anyhow. 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. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. Prudence twinkled at them, and reached out to pat Melusine’s hand. He had been formally adopted by the Becks at the age of twelve.
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