TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
and expectation of wrath on the part of her guilty tenants. She was soon reassured on the latter head, as Pat hastened to assert she had done but her duty and all would soon be explained to the satisfaction of everyone concerned.
But Josephine! No smiles could draw her from her gloom, no coaxing advances from Bateese serve to move her. She sat with straight lips and staring eyes, her thin little hands clasped tight in her lap. Heaven knows what fearsome tales she had heard that morning while the young lady lodgers sat on her bed discussing criminal atrocities and prison terrors, nor how her anguish was augmented by the widow’s pale face, and the widow’s tears which were braided into her back hair. No one could know the exact cause, but the result was evident in a tiny face as stony and terror stricken as that of a sensitive woman
