" "I should like a little of that plum-tart," said Mrs. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. CHAPTER XXVIII. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes. " "We shall have a durty night on it, to a sartinty, landlord," observed an old oneeyed sailor, who sat smoking his pipe by the fire-side. \"Stop smiling, you're scaring me. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. “I am.
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