cult task (one
sneeze effected it), he signed to him to rouse his mother.

Ill-luck would have it, however, that, just then, the preacher, in a
forcible exposition of one head of his discourse, leaned over upon the
pulpit-desk so that very little more of him than his legs remained
inside; and, while he made vehement gestures with his right hand, and
held on with his left, stared, or seemed to stare, straight into little
Jacob's eyes, threatening him by his strained look and attitude--so it
appeared to the child--that if he so much as moved a muscle, he, the
preacher, would be literally, and not figuratively, 'down upon him'
that instant. In this fearful state of things, distracted by the
sudden appearance of Kit, and fascinated by the eyes of the preacher,
the miserable Jacob sat bolt upright, wholly incapable of motion,
strongly disposed to cry but afraid to do so, and returning his
pastor's gaze until his infant eyes seemed starting from their sockets.

'If I must do it openly, I must,' thought Kit. With that he walked
softly out of his pew and into his mother's, and as Mr Swiveller would
have observed if he had been present, 'collared' the baby without
speaking a word.

'Hush, mother!' whispered Kit. 'Come along with me, I've got something
to tell you.'

'Where am I?' said Mrs Nubbles.

'In this blessed Little Bethel,' returned her son, peevishly.

'Blessed indeed!' cried Mrs Nubbles, catching at the word. 'Oh,
Christopher, how have I been edified this night!'

'Yes, yes, I know,' said Kit hastily; 'but come along, mother,
everybody's looking at us. Don't make a noise--bring Jacob--that's
right!'

'Stay, Satan, stay!' cried the preacher, as Kit was moving off.

'This gentleman says you're to stay, Christopher,' whispered his mother.

'Stay, Satan, stay!' roared the preacher again. 'Tempt not the woman
that doth incline her ear to thee, but harken to the voice of him that
calleth. He hath a lamb from the fold!' cried the preacher, raising
his voice still higher and pointing to the baby. 'He beareth off a
lamb, a precious lamb! He goeth about, like a wolf in the night
season, and inveigleth the tender lambs!'

Kit was the best-tempered fellow in the world, but considering this
strong language, and being somewhat excited by the circumstances in
which he was placed, he faced round to the pulpit with the baby in his
arms, and replied aloud, 'No, I don't. He's my brother.'

'He's MY brother!' cri