“She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. Adieu!" And, snatching a hasty kiss, he darted after Jack. " "So she may," returned Jack, brightening up; "it's a good idea. I spoke a thought aloud. She may be an infuriating little devil, but she is far from stupid. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed.
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