t in the same warning attitude until he had
finished the paragraph, when he paused for a few seconds, with a smile
upon his face, as who should say 'this editor is a comical blade--a
funny dog,' and then asked her what she wanted.

'I have brought him a little something to eat,' said the good woman.
'If you please, Sir, might he have it?'

'Yes,--he may have it. There's no rule against that. Give it to me
when you go, and I'll take care he has it.'

'No, but if you please sir--don't be angry with me sir--I am his
mother, and you had a mother once--if I might only see him eat a little
bit, I should go away, so much more satisfied that he was all
comfortable.'

And again the tears of Kit's mother burst forth, and of Barbara's
mother, and of little Jacob. As to the baby, it was crowing and
laughing with its might--under the idea, apparently, that the whole
scene had been invented and got up for its particular satisfaction.

The turnkey looked as if he thought the request a strange one and
rather out of the common way, but nevertheless he laid down his paper,
and coming round where Kit's mother stood, took the basket from her,
and after inspecting its contents, handed it to Kit, and went back to
his place. It may be easily conceived that the prisoner had no great
appetite, but he sat down on the ground, and ate as hard as he could,
while, at every morsel he put into his mouth, his mother sobbed and
wept afresh, though with a softened grief that bespoke the satisfaction
the sight afforded her.

While he was thus engaged, Kit made some anxious inquiries about his
employers, and whether they had expressed any opinion concerning him;
but all he could learn was that Mr Abel had himself broken the
intelligence to his mother, with great kindness and delicacy, late on
the previous night, but had himself expressed no opinion of his
innocence or guilt. Kit was on the point of mustering courage to ask
Barbara's mother about Barbara, when the turnkey who had conducted him,
reappeared, a second turnkey appeared behind his visitors, and the
third turnkey with the newspaper cried 'Time's up!'--adding in the same
breath 'Now for the next party!' and then plunging deep into his
newspaper again. Kit was taken off in an instant, with a blessing from
his mother, and a scream from little Jacob, ringing in his ears. As he
was crossing the next yard with the basket in his hand, under the
guidance of his former conductor, another off