" "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. ” Capes let his oar smack on the water. ‘Seems to me, missie, as you’re as dangerous a female as I’m like to see. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. “Nothing has happened to Mr. . \"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. You won’t have a man’s lips near you, but you’ll eat out of his hand fast enough. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. “He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered.
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