“But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. ‘But what will happen to Lucia? Are we to kill her?’ ‘Of course not. At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game—both of us. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. There was one letter. Only first you must find the lantern and light it again and leave it here, near the door, for me to find.
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