"Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. Stones and brickbats were showered on all sides, and Mr. Mike chimed in. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. Now, it was a wilderness of weeds. He lost control of the machine, was upset and nearly killed. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook.
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