You want music. Tears started to the young man's eyes on beholding the change, and it was with difficulty he could command himself sufficiently to make the inquiries he desired to do respecting the former owner of the house. "My stars! here's a pretty lullaby-cheat to make a fuss about—ho! ho!" "Deal with me as you think proper, gentlemen," exclaimed Wood; "but, for mercy's sake don't harm the child! Let it be taken to its mother. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. In the pause she realized the attention of the others converged upon her, and that the tears were brimming over her eyes. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. He seemed happy with her, finding her proper and seemly. .
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