E. Crocodile Tears. ’ She dropped to her knees before her old nurse and hugged the workroughened hand with both her own, looking up into Martha’s face where slow tears were tracing down her cheek. I won’t tolerate any foreign tongue in this house, least of all that confounded French. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. She returned to these latter, and at the back of her mind, as she looked them over again, was a very distinct resolve to quote them after the manner of Miss Garvice at the very first opportunity. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. .
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