The contest was now carried on between Rowland and Darrell. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that. As you brew so must you drink. The Idle Apprentice. " Blueskin, meanwhile, having drained and replenished his glass, commenced chaunting a snatch of a ballad:— Once on a time, as I've heard tell. But this is a great lark, Ann Veronica! This turns life into a glorious adventure!” “Ah!” she cried in triumph.
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