"My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. Earles’ office, “was your last resource. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. Arrived at the latter place, Jonathan, who, meanwhile, had contrived to liberate his attendants from their bonds, drew up at the Six Bells, and hiring a couple of horses, despatched his attendants in search of Jack Sheppard, while he proceeded to town. A wide terrace then led to large iron gates,' over which were placed the two celebrated figures of Raving and Melancholy Madness, executed by the elder Cibber, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad, in the wellknown lines:— "Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where, o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand, Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand. "'Odd's! bodikins!" cried Jack, rubbing his cheek, "I'm in luck to-day. He hated the taste of it. I asked her to marry me, and she consented.
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