She had never had a pet, never had a real doll. "By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days. Drive away the cat; throw that measure of gin through the window; and tell me why you've not so much as touched the packing-case for Lady Trafford, which I particularly desired you to complete against my return. Observing Spurlock's spellbound attitude, he clapped the boy on the shoulder. " "Your esteem is all he will require," urged Winifred. Well, I was all for dragging in Bow Street there and then, and getting the pair of those fraudsters thrown in gaol. Why, honestly enouch. I was afraid of being talked about. One of the coolies held the paper lantern. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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