This, then, was the woman from whom Hoddy would not have accepted a cup of water. “She has gone down into the country. “Well, no,” she answered. “Why not?” he exclaimed. 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. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel.
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