Wait!" He released himself from his aunt's embrace, ran to the trunk and fetched the old coat. While he was considering what would be best to do, the poor maniac, over whose bewildered brain another change had come, raised her head from under the straw, and peeping round the room, asked in a low voice, "If they were gone?" "Who?" inquired Jack. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. Leave me my blanket! I'm very cold at night. ” He leaned back for his soup.
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