He's asleep.' 'I insist.' 'Nonsense: I tell you he's a-bed and asleep.' 'I repeat, I insist.' 'When the boy's fast asleep, man!' 'The boy is my flesh and blood.

You have spoken for your daughter--I speak for my son.

I will see him, though I have to batter at your doors till sunrise.' Some minutes later the boy was taken out of his bed by his aunt Dorothy, who dressed him by the dark window-light, crying bitterly, while she said, 'Hush, hush!' and fastened on his small garments between tender huggings of his body and kissings of his cheeks.

He was told that he had nothing to be afraid of.

A gentleman wanted to see him: nothing more.
Whether the gentleman was a good gentleman, and not a robber, he could not learn but his aunt Dorothy, having wrapped him warm in shawl and comforter, and tremblingly tied his hat-strings under his chin, assured him, with convulsive caresses, that it would soon be over, and he would soon be lying again snug and happy in his dear little bed.