A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table. With Bess's assistance he then climbed up to the window, which, as has just been stated, was secured by iron bars of great thickness crossed by a stout beam of oak. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. She was nearly dead. And let us go on with our evening. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. ” “Well, I take it we’re straight again,” said Capes with a note of relief, and assumed an easier position on the edge of her table.
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