"Well, Lady Trafford," he said, fixing a severe look upon her. I learned of your betrothal, gleaned all the information I could simply by eavesdropping. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. Then, if you are bad to me, I can more easily blow off your head. "Oh! they are—are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; "that'll do.
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