It was his mother, and as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. "Good night!" "Blueskin," whispered Jack, in his natural tones, as the other passed him, "wait without. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better.
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