Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. You're an angel of goodness. If ever he requires my services, he shall find I'm not ungrateful. Arrived beneath an aperture in the broken roof, he was preparing to pass through it, when he observed a little heap of tiles upon the floor, which appeared to have been recently dislodged. “No reason. " So saying, he raised a whistle to his lips, and blew a loud call; and, as this was unanswered, another still louder.
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