“Pet Lawless—better known to her unhappy friends as ‘Imp, Elf, Firefly, Nettle, Pepperpod,’ and many other equally proper, appropriate and suggestive names. ‘Queen regent and mistress imperial to all the witches and warlocks that ever rode on broomsticks,’ and leaves a large and disagreeable circle of friends to mourn her untimely loss. Requiescat in pace.“
All this Pet brought out at a breath, and so rapidly that the smuggler-captain looked completely bewildered.
“Lawless!” he exclaimed. “I did not think—do you know Judge Lawless of Heath Hill?” he asked abruptly.
“Slightly acquainted. They say I’m a daughter of his,” said Pet, composedly.
“His daughter? Young lady, are you jesting?”
“Well, I may be—quite unintentional on my part, though; if it sounds funny, you’re perfectly welcome to laugh at it till you’re black in the face. What was it?”
“You Judge Lawless’s daughter?” said the astonished captain.
“Nothing is certain in this uncertain world, Captain Reginald. I’ve always labored under that impression; if you know anything to the contrary, I am quite willing to be convinced.”
“Young lady, I wish you would be serious for one moment,” said the smuggler, knitting his dark brows. "If you are his daughter, there has been a terrible mistake here. Did not Rozzel Garnet live at Heath Hill for some years as the tutor of Miss Lawless?”
“Yes, sir, and he was sent about his business for wishing to teach her some things not laid down in the books.”