“Of course, I remember now. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. "My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. She had changed into dungarees herself and kept her hair as it was. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. ” Lady Ferringhall was conscious of some relief.
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