"Do not go near him, mother," cried Jack; "do not believe him. Vorsack looked pale and pink. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. I am on my way to an aunt who lives in Hartford, Connecticut. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. Don’t ask me how. He turned me so that he could have a companion in his loneliness.
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