"Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother. The Idle Apprentice II. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. " "Then this is not my child?" exclaimed she, with increased astonishment.
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