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She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Wood chanced to be murdered by Blueskin, the fellow who just left the room, on the very night of his return, as it has thrown the house into such confusion, and so distracted them, that he has had no time as yet for hostile movements. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. "I should like to know where Mr. "I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline.
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