ith anger.
"Do you dare to insinuate that Mrs. Wood governs me?"

"It's plain you can't govern yourself, at all events," replied Jack
coolly; "but, be that as it may, I won't be struck for nothing."

"Nothing," echoed Wood furiously. "Do you call neglecting your work, and
singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a
master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your
solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. But
I'll be more lenient, and content myself with merely chastising you, on
condition--"

"You may do as you please, master," interrupted Jack, thrusting his hand
into his pocket, as if in search of the knife; "but I wouldn't advise
you to lay hands on me again."

Mr. Wood glanced at the hardy offender, and not liking the expression of
his countenance, thought it advisable to postpone the execution of his
threats to a more favourable opportunity. So, by way of gaining time, he
resolved to question him further.

"Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an
authoritative tone.

"At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation.

"The worst house in the neighbourhood--the constant haunt of reprobates
and thieves," groaned Wood. "And who taught it you--the landlord, Joe
Hind?"

"No; one Blueskin, a fellow who frequents the Lion," answered Jack, with
a degree of candour that astonished his master nearly as much as his
confidence. "It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on
the beam."

"A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,--remember that," rejoined Wood.
"Pretty company for an apprentice to keep!--pretty houses for an
apprentice to frequent! Why, the rascal you mention is a notorious
house-breaker. He was tried at the last Old Bailey sessions; and only
escaped the gallows by impeaching his accomplices. Jonathan Wild brought
him off."

"Do you happen to know Jonathan Wild, master?" inquired Jack, altering
his tone, and assuming a more respectful demeanour.

"I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though
he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him
again."

"A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,--with a yellow beard,
and a face as sly as a fox's?"

"Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the
description's not amiss. But why do you ask?"

"Because--" stammered the boy.

"Speak out--don't be alarmed," said Wo