Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. "The rebuke is just," said the carpenter; "at the same time, I'm not sorry to find you're a friend to fair play, which, as you seem to know, is a jewel. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. I’ve—dreads. I sha'n't cry any more. For many of them it will smirch us forever.
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