"There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. I was grateful. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. You're a queer lad.
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