"And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. Having once more got into the chimney, he climbed to a level with the ward above, and recommenced operations as vigorously as before. ” He plunged into one of his drawers, and brought up a small gold-foiled bottle. He had quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. .
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