Sheppard's house, loud yells and vociferations reached his ears; and, looking downwards, he perceived a great stir amid the mob. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack. " "Jonathan Wild!" repeated the carpenter, trembling. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. My servant.
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