"Never mind," replied the tapstress. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. He smiled inwardly. None this end. He flung open the door and cast a quick glance round. "Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone. "What would my poor mother say to it?" "I was sorry to see that about your mother, Jack," observed Hogarth. Above was a spacious hall, connected with it by a flight of stone steps, at the further end of which stood an immense grated door, called in the slang of the place "The Jigger," through the bars of which the felons in the upper wards were allowed to converse with their friends, or if they wished to enter the room, or join the revellers below, they were at liberty to do so, on payment of a small fine.
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