aced as you are.”

    “It o find you thousands.”

    “You could scarcely find me one. If you kne, you are peculiarly situated: very near . terials are all prepared; ts a movement to combine t apart; let ts.”

    “I don’t understand enigmas. I never could guess a riddle in my life.”

    “If you wiso speak more plainly, show me your palm.”

    “And I must cross it h silver, I suppose?”

    “to be sure.”

    I gave  it into an old stocking-foot  of , and ied it round and returned it, sold me to  my o t  touc.

    “It is too fine,” said s; almost  lines: besides, iny is not ten there.”

    “I believe you,” said I.

    “No,” sinued, “it is in t t up your head.”

    “Ao reality,” I said, as I obeyed o put some faitly.”

    I knelt irred t a ripple of ligurbed coal: t, only to deeper s illumined.

    “I  feelings you came to me to-nig ts are busy in your  during all t in yonder room ting before you like sern: just as little sympatic communion passing bet tual substance.”

    “I feel tired often, sleepy sometimes, but seldom sad.”

    “t o buoy you up and please you ure?”

    “Not I. tmost I o save money enoug of my earnings to set up a sctle ed by myself.”

    “A mean nutriment for t to exist on: and sitting in t  (you see I know your s )—”

    “You s.”

    “Ao speak trutance hem, Mrs. Poole—”

    I started to my feet whe name.

    “You  I; “ter all, then!”

    “Don’t be alarmed,” continued trange being; “s; any one m