th her elbows resting on the counter. I
waited a little, and then I said, "What is the matter, Mrs. St. Felix?"

She started at my voice.

"You here, Jack? I thought you had gone out with your father. Well,"
continued she, wiping her eyes, "it serves me right. I forgot that in
amusing myself I annoyed him. Jack, don't you mention anything about
this. Do you think your father will?"

"I don't think he will, for he cannot do so without talking about having
his pigtail cut off, and I know he cannot bear to think of it."

"Well, then, pray don't you, that's a good boy."

"I never will, I promise you."

"Then, good-night, Jack; you must leave me now, I don't feel quite
well."

I wished the widow good-night, and went back to my mother's house. My
father was there, but he never hinted at the conversation which had
taken place, neither at that time nor afterward.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Showing how Old Nanny fell Sick and got Well again.

Before I fell asleep that night I thought a great deal of what had
passed between the widow St. Felix and my father. Why should she have
shown such emotion, and why should she request of me not to mention what
had passed? I had heard reports about her, as I have before mentioned; I
had heard them from old Nanny, but I did not put any confidence in what
she said. Thinking of old Nanny reminded me that I had not called upon
her for some time, and I resolved that I would visit her the next day.

It was not until late in the evening that I could spare time to call
upon her, and, what was not usual, I went empty-handed. I found to my
surprise that the door was shut to, and the shutters of the shop not
taken down. I tried the latch, the door opened, and I went in.

"Who's there?" screamed old Nanny from the inner room. "What do you
want?"

"It's only Poor Jack, mother," replied I, "come to see how you are."

"Come in," replied she; "I'm very bad. Oh! oh! I thought it was some
thief or another come to steal all the things in my shop."

I entered the room and found old Nanny in bed; she looked very ill and
miserable, and everything was very dirty.

"Are you not well, mother?" said I.

"Well, boy? No, very ill, very ill indeed, haven't left my bed these
three days. Reach me a little water, Jack, there's a good boy. I've been
dying for water."

I handed her a broken jug which had some water in it. She drank
greedily, so as to spill nearly half of it on the coverlid.

"Oh,