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. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. ’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers.
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