“Perhaps for myself I do not mind, but this man is sure to find out some day, and he will not like having been deceived. I know you. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. ‘It is in truth you?’ ‘Of course it is I. ” Lucy snickered. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. F. “He ran some Austrian fellow off. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet.
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