When the twins had first come to live in the 208 house, they were thin and bony, their tiny mouths crying for food. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. . "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. 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. ‘Well said, my dear. Too busy. Jack! Mon dieu, but he was unarmed.
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