Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. "You poor child!—you can have all the dogs on the island, if you want them! Come along to the kitchen, and we'll give Rollo a tubbing. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. “You MUST,” he said, “because of my depression. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. The gentleman didn't communicate his business to me.
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