"I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. Lucy saw it happen as if in slow motion. It ceased to be the symbol of liberty and a remote and quite abstracted person, and became suddenly and very disagreeably the token of a large and portentous body visible and tangible. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though. Come and help me pack. After all, it is not long since that a Catholic nun in this country would have had to remain in hiding.
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