" "Don't scold him, father," interposed Thames; "he's been frightened enough already. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. She had not seen him in two and a half centuries. ‘I’ve had enough of this. "I vent to de New Prish'n, and on wishitin' his shel vid de turnkey, vot should ve find but de shains on de ground, de vinder broken, and Jack and Agevorth Besh gone. "Is this her work?" "It is," answered Thames.
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