Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. "I should call it putting him out of the way. 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. It was his turn to express astonishment. "I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. This time he couldn't get far. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. They took their places at a distant table.
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