She glared at him with satisfaction. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. I'm not particular what or where. From her stomacher, to which it was attached by a multitude of glittering steel chains, depended an immense turnip-shaped watch, in a pinchbeck case. 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.
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