277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. Sheppard is one, no doubt," observed Mrs. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. A. "Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. Her fingers rested upon his. "Here he is, waterman," exclaimed the benevolent carpenter.
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