"Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs. Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter. When they reached the door, he kissed her 246 again. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. Mr. "How do you know that?" rejoined Jack. " "Understand what?" "You or this girl. ‘You will not guess again?’ ‘No, no, I am quite out of ideas. He recognised Anna, and at once addressed her.
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