He was in very low spirits. "Och!" he sighed. "Three o' my dearest freends drooned in one fell plunge! Yon was a dooms crushing blow. And then, late this e'en, what do I hear? Lord Raven, anither o' my cullies, crushed to death under a falling wall, puir mon. Whit gar'd him walk past a building that was aboot tae fall doon? Aweel, aweel, we'll never ken. I speer I am the unluckiest mon in London this nicht." Sophie could not help thinking that Lord Forecastle, Sir Percy Tipstaff, the dean of St. Paul's, and Lord Raven were unluckier still, but she was too kindhearted to utter this thought aloud. "If it were not for you, my dear Battersea," said the king, drinking another large jorum of tea, his fourth, "and bonnie Lady Sophie here, I'd have nae freend tae my name in this weary city." "Never mind, sir. We'll soon introduce you to plenty of people that you can't help liking," said Simon comfortingly. "I know a coach-maker called Cobb—he and his wife are the best people in the world; and there's Dr.
