Purney, the ordinary, who had latterly conceived a great regard for Jack, addressed him in a discourse, which, while it tended to keep alive his feelings of penitence, was calculated to afford him much consolation. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. Even though I knew you’d no one else to care. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step.
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