One has to be so careful. ’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked. Come, make yourself scarce. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE.
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