Ain't you, Jacky darling?" "Not quite, Poll," returned Mr. ‘Come,’ she called. " "I know you'll contradict it, Sir," said the widow, looking at Wood as if she dreaded to have her fears confirmed,—"I know you will. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. McClintock would bang his fist upon the table. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian.
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