“How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. “I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. " So saying, he scrambled over the rubbish, and got into the chimney. She went down, feeling rather than seeing the way. “He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. I have but to give a hint of that boy's existence in the proper quarter, and his life will not be worth a day's purchase.
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