A CHILD OF THE JAGO
throat, and his chin jolted his teeth together uncontrollably. Josh dragged off his spotted coat and waistcoat and flung them on the bed, and was then helped out of his ill-mended blue shirt. He gave a hitch to his trousers-band, tightened his belt, and was ready.
"Ta-ta, ol' gal," he said to his wife, with a grin; "back agin soon."
"With a bob or two for ye," added Kiddo Cook, grinning likewise.
Hannah Perrott sat pale and wistful, with the baby on her knees. Through the morning she had sat so, wretched and helpless, sometimes potting her face in her hands, sometimes breaking out hopelessly:—"Don't, Josh, don't—good Gawd Josh, I wish you wouldn't!" or, "Josh, Josh, I wish I was dead!" Josh had fought before, it was true, and more than once, but then she had learned of the matter afterward. This preparation and long waiting were another thing. Once she
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