With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold. Wood. “I mean REALLY independent. She kicked him in the shin, trying to knock him off his feet. Await me in the coach. "I tell 'ee what, master, if you're more fortinate nor I am, and get ashore, give old saltwater your fare. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. Don't be frightened of her. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same.
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