“Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. '—'No fear o' that,' thought I. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. He was even a little jealous of Sebastian. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. . Perhaps because I don’t know.
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