Wood glanced at the hardy offender, and not liking the expression of his countenance, thought it advisable to postpone the execution of his threats to a more favourable opportunity. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. He motioned the young man to the rear chair, because at that hour the youth appeared to be a quantity close to zero. “Have you not heard?” she said. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections.
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