"I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. "What's the matter?" he cried. ‘Oh, you may come to me on any mission you like,’ uttered Mrs Sindlesham roguishly. I suppose you have come to see your granddaughter. 155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor.
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