Spurling," said Jonathan, who overheard the whisper, "you owe your situation to me. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. ” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. Where even to be a Catholic, they say, is to be looked upon with scorn and disgust. CHAPTER XXX.
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