Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Hark ye, Blueskin," continued he, addressing that personage, who, in obedience to his commands, had, with great promptitude, driven out the rabble, and again secured the door, "a word in your ear. I know London better than you, and I have had to earn my own living. Slash and cut as much as you please. “Child!” he cried. ‘I’ll make it, miss.
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