It occurred to her to look in upon Jack, whom she had left in
captivity four days before. She had a curiosity to see how he bore
his confinement.
She knocked at the door, and was admitted by the old man who kept
the house. Mr. Foley was looking older and more wrinkled than ever.
He had been disturbed of his rest the night previous, he said.
"Well," said Peg, "and how is our prisoner?"
"Bless my soul," said Mr. Foley, "I haven't been to give him his
breakfast this morning. He must be hungry. But my head is in such a
state. However, I think I've secured him."
"What do you mean?"
"I have asked him to become one of us,--he's a bold lad,--and he has
promised to think of it."
"He is not to be trusted," said Peg, hastily,
"You think not?"
"I know it."
"Well," said the old man, "I suppose you know him better than I do.
But he's a bold lad."
"I should like to go up and see him," said Peg.
"Wait a minute, and I will carry up his breakfast."
The old man soon reappeared from the basement with some cold meat
and bread and butter.
"You may go up first," he said; "you are younger than I am."
They reached the landing.
"What's all this?" demanded Peg, her quick eyes detecting the
aperture in the door.
"What's what?" asked Foley.
"Is this the care you take of your prisoners?" demanded Peg,
sharply.
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