"Do not go near him, mother," cried Jack; "do not believe him. In this way (he informed Spurlock) he kept posted on what was going on in the strictly commercial world. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. Like the flaws of an old marble. The latter formed by far the most knavish-looking and unprepossessing portion of the assemblage. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. Some one was standing beside him. "Mother, I come to you. Adieu!" And, snatching a hasty kiss, he darted after Jack.
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