Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. “Don’t come nearer!” she said. She didn’t choose her man. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. “I don’t want to take up your time. You hear what I say, Quilt?" he added, looking at Jack. . Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road.
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