You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. Their conversation became stilted. “I believe that you are right,” he said softly. ” “And they go?” “When they get the chance. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. "You are, Sir," thundered Jonathan; "and, unless you find him, you shan't hold your place a week. ” Cathy ruffled Lucy’s curly hair. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away. Come back with me to-night. “You decline to help us in any way, then,” he said.
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