"Jack Sheppard's mother," answered the little girl, dejectedly; "she has brought a basket of eggs from Willesden, and some flowers for you. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. "Well, it's a good story. Wood," she cried, as the staff fell from his grasp. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. 132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me. " "Do not distress him, dear father," said Winifred; "he suffers deeply. He is delightful, is he not?’ ‘That will do, Lucilla.
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