CHAPTER XXVII. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. ” He said. . I only seen her when she come with that Sister Martha. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Hers were less noble, yet stately.
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