" "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children. She approached this field with her usual liveliness of apprehension. She heard them diving after her, and noted their starting eyes as they spied the opened panel. Sheppard.
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