The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. you did what you had to do. Jonathan threw open the street-door. As he entered the shop, a tall portly personage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. She came to her one day and pulled on her apron.
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