“Don’t!” she begged. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together. " "It ought to be; it cost enough to get it here," said the Scot, ruefully. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead.
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