It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. Occasionally he relit his pipe. "And now, having got rid of the minor obstacles," said Jonathan, "I'll submit a plan for the removal of the main difficulty.
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