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This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. The small bed’s hospital corners had been put into disarray by Michelle’s crying fit. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. Spurling had retired for the night. “Well, I do. " "Thank'ee,—thank'ee.
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