"Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. You're on the way to big things. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. "Another time," replied the thief-taker, evasively. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. "Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow.
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