She shut the door behind her. Jonathan cast a hasty glance around, to see that all was properly arranged for his purpose; placed a chair with its back to the door; disposed the lights on the table so as to throw the entrance of the room more into shadow; and then flung himself into a seat to await Sir Rowland's arrival. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. The rest she meant to keep for her immediate necessities. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. While this was going on, Blueskin, seeing no notice whatever taken of him, coughed loudly and repeatedly.
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