I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. ” “For a little time,” she answered. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. “Who decorated the school like this?” She asked, peering up at the multicolored banners that hung everywhere. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg.
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