I was just like a sort of dummy that does things as it is told—that is to say, as the strings are pulled. The young lady in the bureau said she would inquire, and Ann Veronica, while she affected to read the appeal on a hospital collecting-box upon the bureau counter, had a disagreeable sense of being surveyed from behind by a small, whiskered gentleman in a frock-coat, who came out of the inner office and into the hall among a number of equally observant green porters to look at her and her bags. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. "Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity.
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