Earles answered, glibly. It was better even than the hymn-singing. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. “By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply. That is what my mother used to call me. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. My only love is for my poor lost son.
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