As the carpenter's gaze wandered over this scene of devastation, his attention was drawn by Mrs. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. It's hereditary, like de jigt, vat you call it—gout —haw! haw!" "If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, "it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but, in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, "it's quite out of the question. " "Very well.
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