"If that sickly brat lives to be a man," continued Jonathan, rising, "I'll hang him upon the same tree as his father. "Forgive—forgive me!" "I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. "Why you wouldn't stand in the way of his good fortune surely? I'll be a second father to him, I tell you. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. " "You shall finish the bottle when the job's done," replied Jonathan. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. "Never give in. Evidently he was gazing at the dull red roofs of the city: but was he registering what he saw? Never glance sideways at man, the old Kanaka woman had said. Stanley poured wine. Sheppard, returning his embrace with all a parent's tenderness. .
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