"Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. And, now, to find a messenger. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. He died when I was. " "Would you like to have me read to you?" He did not answer. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door.
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