They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. As to following, there was no one. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. So these two young philosophers got along very well that day; and the succeeding days. The grim mockery of it!—those South Sea loafers, taking advantage of Enschede's Christianity and imposing upon him, accepting his money and medicines and laughing behind his back! No doubt they made the name a byword and a subject for ribald jest in the waterfront bars. CHAPTER XIII. Miss Ellicot pursed her lips and sat a little more upright. “Besides, it is not so. . “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment.
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