"Because it's not like you," was her answer. "I've known him all my life," replied the other. We shall expect you to tell us all what to wear. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Of this I'm certain, however, she was much too good for him, and was never meant to be a journeyman carpenter's wife, still less what is she now. "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.
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