” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. Jackson’s. I found him lying like this, the bleeding partly stopped by this scarf, else he had been dead by now. You've a good deal to go through to-night. Do they, Bess?" "Certainly not," replied the young lady appealed to, "especially about their sons. He was therefore obliged to use the iron bar, which he did with as much caution as circumstances would permit. Without you I should never have recovered either health or reason. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis.
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