Mr. Miss Stanley reflected on this proposal for a moment. " "Won't you go?" cried Jack passionately. But he had been forewarned by his great-nephew. I sha'n't utter a word. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. . ’ The woman shrugged helpless shoulders, looking to her husband. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. “Useless—worse than useless. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. He was by no means certain that she would not in fact attempt to blow off his head as she had threatened.
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