"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. He cocked an eyebrow. you walking home?\" 3 She paused, stunned. “Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. But really it is much more than that. You’ve got to take what you can get. "See how glad he is!" His irony and displeasure subsided. On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. In short, every contrivance that ingenuity could devise was resorted to by this horde of reprobates to secure themselves from danger or molestation. On examination it proved to be a flat bar of iron, nearly a yard in length, and more than an inch square. Cathy chimed. Voilà tout. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice.
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