"I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly.
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