Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. It feels like it. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. He seemed to be thinking hard. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. In the interim, Jack advanced to the woollen-draper, and regarding him sternly, thus addressed him: "You have violated the laws of hospitality, Mr.
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