The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. Not afraid of me, either. A broken laugh followed the action.
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