"That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. Could she hold him and manage the reins? If only Gerald had not gone. "Mr. I’m sorry to disappoint you. "Get ready your heaviest irons, Austin. " "A miniature! Of whom?" "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. O'Higgins struck a match and lit his Henry Clay, thereby drawing upon himself the mutual disapproval of the spinsters. CHAPTER III. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. .
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