Her degraded charge had come back, and was standing behind her with the bonnet and shawl.

“Give ’em to me and get back into your corner, you naughty old thing!” said Miss Wren, as she turned and espied him. “No, no, I won’t have your help. Go into your corner, this minute!”

The miserable man, feebly rubbing the back of his faltering hands downward from the wrists, shuffled on to his post of disgrace; but not without a curious glance at Eugene in passing him, accompanied with what seemed as if it might have been an action of his elbow, if any action of any limb or joint he had, would have answered truly to his will. Taking no more particular notice of him than instinctively falling away from the disagreeable contact, Eugene, with a lazy compliment or so to Miss Wren, begged leave to light his cigar, and departed.

“Now you prodigal old son,” said Jenny, shaking her head and her emphatic little forefinger at her burden, “you sit there till I come back. You dare to move out of your corner for a single instant while I’m gone, and I’ll know the reason why.”