" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. "You are all right?"—anxiously. ‘No! Let me alone!’ ‘It is not safe!’ ‘That is entirely my affair, and not your affair in the least,’ she told him haughtily. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. ” She did not add that he vomited and that she had to loosen the tape to keep him from drowning. “Run in now. " "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own.
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