You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. Curiously enough nothing will persuade him that she is not ‘Alcide. ” Lucy wanted badly to believe her. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. I may as well think. He kissed her once inside the car. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. The less said, therefore, on this point the better; because, as nothing is to be gained by it, it would only be trouble thrown away. . CHAPTER II.
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