I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. The lad hesitated. “He knows. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. ‘Parbleu, you are deaf perhaps? It is seen that you are very old, certainly. He drew a little sigh of relief. Forgive my daring. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat.
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