“Well, hello there. . ’ He grinned. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. “How I am to earn enough sous for my dinner to-morrow—or failing that, what I can sell. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. " "For an old bachelor?" "A human old bachelor. "Certainly," replied Jonathan, with the most perfect sangfroid, "I'll undertake to free you from the boy. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill.
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