What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically. That's a queer yarn. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. " "I hope you never may, my love," humbly acquiesced the carpenter. The latter walked carelessly towards the hatch, and leaning his back against the place whence the spike had been removed, so as completely to hide it, continued smoking his pipe as coolly as if nothing had happened. ’ ‘Between the devil and the deep blue sea, he were,’ agreed Pottiswick’s daughter.
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