About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. The room was dark and dusty.
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