In order to make Mr. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. This had well nigh been the case with the carpenter. Then, her body still tense with the atoms of anger, she sat down upon the edge of the bed and rocked from side to side. It is so ridiculous. “Well?” “I don’t care a rap for all these things. .
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