By the by, Mr. “Michelle, I don’t ever want to hear you mention the subject you mentioned at dinner again. ‘That’s just it. "Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. ’ ‘Is it, now? Well you won’t, then, for he won’t hear nothing, missie. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. “Okay, I guess.
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