The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. " "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. " "I will, when I've had my revenge," muttered Jack. “I dare not,” she answered. We'll get those books into your room first. “I go to private school right now. " "Hurt her? It would tear her to pieces; God knows she has had enough. The forgiveness and reconciliation was a cold and formal affair, and afterwards her father went off gloomily to his study, and Mr. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. “My Mom was a good lady.
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