She held back.
'Mind, child,' said the old man, 'you hold your tongue about this bit of paper. A word might lose us all.'
CHAPTER V
DON'T
Winefred went down the street in the direction of the curate's house. She encountered the reverend gentleman. He was somewhat shabby in dress, his boots were worn, and his neckcloth far from fresh starched. He had a depressed, crushed look.
The girl went up to him confidently, and asked for Jack Rattenbury.
'My child,' answered the parson, 'he is not at my house, nor at his lodgings.'
'I have a pair of socks for him knitted by his father.'
'I can give them to him.'