"You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. "Oh! they are—are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; "that'll do. “I shan’t eat him. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. Come, make yourself scarce. She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart.
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