When he begins to notice things, I want you to trap his interest, to amuse him, keep his thoughts from reverting to his misfortunes. "Who are you?" inquired Mrs. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. Thus, more and more Ruth turned to the mongrel dog who bore the name of Rollo unflinchingly—the dog that adored her openly, shamelessly, who now without a whimper took his diurnal tubbing. " "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. ‘That’s right, you bone idle do-nothings.
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