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"Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy. You heard her. Dolby was portly and handsome. In the beginning was afraid; but after the first several cases, I had only pity. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. . Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit.
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