To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. “I cannot keep silence any longer. ” “It’s dreadful for you to be here,” he said, indicating the yellow presence of the first fog of the year without, “but your aunt told me something of what had happened. He is coming here to tea. But it’s love you should’ve had when you were tiny and I didn’t give it to you. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. I believe you’ve crushed a gland or something. It was owing to the untimely end of this poor fellow that Mrs. A neat tale, giving little away.
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