"Go on. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. " "Are you sure of that?" returned Winifred, looking uneasily at Jack. Spit of your mother. John’s demeanor shifted. She stared at his pleading face. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly.
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