I have been imaging—” “Mr. Then we can loiter and gossip to our heart’s content. "I release you from your promise. "What's all this?" exclaimed Wood in amazement. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. ‘Possibly,’ he said. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy.
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