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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Luck, by L. T. Meade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Good Luck
+
+Author: L. T. Meade
+
+Release Date: April 12, 2009 [EBook #28565]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOOD LUCK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+GOOD LUCK
+
+
+BY
+
+MRS. L. T. MEADE
+
+
+
+Author of Polly, A Sweet Girl Graduate, Etc.
+
+
+
+
+M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
+
+CHICAGO ------------ NEW YORK
+
+1896
+
+
+
+
+GOOD LUCK
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Amongst the crowd of people who were waiting in the Out-Patients'
+Department of the London Hospital on a certain foggy day toward the
+latter end of November might have been seen an old cherry-cheeked
+woman.  She had bright blue eyes and firm, kindly lips.  She was a
+little woman, slightly made, and her whole dress and appearance were
+somewhat old-fashioned.  In the first place, she was wonderfully
+pretty.  Her little face looked something like a russet apple, so clear
+was her complexion and so bright and true the light in her eyes.  Her
+hair was snow-white, and rather fluffy in texture; it surrounded her
+forehead like a silver halo, adding to the picturesque effect of apple
+cheeks and deep blue eyes.  Her attire was quaint and old-fashioned.
+She wore a neat black dress, made without the least attempt at
+ornament; round her neck was a snowy kerchief of somewhat coarse but
+perfectly clean muslin; over her shoulders a little black shawl was
+folded corner-ways, and pinned neatly with a large black-headed pin at
+her breast.  A peep of the snowy handkerchief showed above the shawl;
+the handkerchief vied with the white of her hair.  On her head was a
+drawn black silk bonnet with a tiny border of white net inside.  Her
+hands were clothed in white cotton gloves.  She stood on the borders of
+the crowd, one of them, and yet apart from them, noticeable to everyone
+present by her pretty, dainty neatness, and by the look of health which
+to all appearance she possessed.  This had evidently been her first
+visit to the Out-Patients' Department.  Some _habitués_ of the place
+turned and stared at her, and one or two women who stood
+near--burdened, pallid, ill-looking women--gave her a quick glance of
+envy, and asked her with a certain show of curiosity what ailed her.
+
+"It's my hand, dear," was the reply.  "It pains awful--right up to the
+shoulder."
+
+"It's rheumatis you've got, you poor thing," said one of the women who
+had addressed her.
+
+"No, I don't think it's exactly that," was the reply; "but the doctor
+'ll tell.  I can't hold my needle with the pain; it keeps me awake o'
+nights.  Oh, we must all have our share," she added cheerfully; "but ef
+it were the will of the Almighty, I'd rayther not have my share o' pain
+in my right hand."
+
+"You does needlework fer a living, I suppose?" said a man who stood
+near.
+
+"Yes.  I only 'opes to the Lord that my working hand isn't going to be
+taken from me--but there, I'll soon know."
+
+She smiled brightly at these words, and addressed one of her neighbors
+with regard to the state of that neighbor's baby--the child was
+evidently suffering from ophthalmia, and could scarcely open its eyes.
+
+It was cold in the out-patients' waiting-room, and the crowd became
+impatient and anxious, each for his or her turn to see the doctors who
+were in attendance.  At last the little woman with the white hair was
+admitted to the consulting-room.  She was shown in by a dresser, and
+found herself face to face with the doctor.  He said a few words to
+her, asked her some questions with regard to her symptoms, looked at
+the hand, touched the thumb and forefinger, examined the palm of the
+hand very carefully, and then pronounced his brief verdict.
+
+"You are suffering from what is equivalent to writers' cramp, my good
+woman," he said.
+
+"Lor', sir," she interrupted, "I respec'fully think you must be
+mistook.  I never take a pen in my 'and oftener nor twice a year.  I
+aint a schollard, sir."
+
+"That don't matter," was the reply; "you use your needle a good deal."
+
+"Of course, and why shouldn't I?"
+
+"How many hours a day do you work?"
+
+"I never count the hours, sir.  I work all the time that I've got.  The
+more I work, the more money there be, you understand."
+
+"Yes, I quite understand.  Well, you must knock it off.  Here!  I shall
+order you a certain liniment, which must be rubbed into the hand two or
+three times a day."
+
+"But what do you mean by knocking it off, sir?"
+
+"What I say--you must stop needlework.  Johnson," continued Dr. Graves,
+raising his eyes and looking at the dresser, "send in another patient."
+He rose as he spoke.
+
+"I am sorry for you, my poor woman," he said, "but that hand is
+practically useless.  At your age, there is not the most remote chance
+of recovery.  The hand will be powerless in a few months' time,
+whatever you do; but if you spare it--in short, give it complete
+rest--it may last a little longer."
+
+"And do you mean, sir, that I'm never to do sewing again?"
+
+"I should recommend you to knock it off completely and at once; by so
+doing you will probably save yourself a good deal of suffering, and the
+disease may not progress so rapidly--in any case, the power to sew will
+soon leave you.  Use the liniment by all means, take care of your
+health, be cheerful.  Good-morning."
+
+The doctor accompanied the little woman to the door of the
+consulting-room; he opened the door for her, and bowed as she passed
+out.  He treated her almost as if she were a lady, which in very truth
+she was in every sense of the word.  But she did not notice his
+politeness, for his words had stunned her.  She walked slowly, with a
+dazed look in her eyes, through the crowd of people who were waiting to
+be admitted to the different physicians, and found herself in the open
+street.  Her name was Patience Reed, she was sixty-eight years of age,
+and was the grandmother of six orphan children.
+
+"Good Lord, what do it mean?" she murmured as she walked quickly
+through the sloppy, dark, disagreeable streets.  "I'm to lose the power
+of this 'and, and I'm not to do any more needlework.  I don't believe
+it's true.  I don't believe that doctor.  I'll say nothing to Alison
+to-day.  Good Lord, I don't believe for a moment you'd afflict me in
+this awful sort of way!"
+
+She walked quickly.  She had by nature a very light and cheerful heart;
+her spirit was as bright and cheery as her appearance.  She picked up
+her courage very soon, stepped neatly through the miry, slippery
+streets, and presently reached her home.  Mrs. Reed and the six
+grandchildren lived in a model lodging-house in a place called Sparrow
+Street, off Whitechapel Road.  The house possessed all the new sanitary
+improvements, a good supply of water was laid on, the rooms were well
+ventilated, the stoves in the little kitchens burned well, the rents
+were moderate, there was nothing at all to complain of in the home.
+Mrs. Reed was such a hearty, genial, hard-working woman that she would
+have made any home bright and cheerful.  She had lived in Whitechapel
+for several years, but her work lay mostly in the West End.  She
+belonged to the old-fashioned order of needlewomen.  She could do the
+most perfect work with that right hand which was so soon to be useless.
+Machine-made work excited her strongest contempt, but work of the best
+order, the finest hand-made needlework, could be given over to her care
+with perfect satisfaction.  She had a good connection amongst the West
+End shops, and had year after year earned sufficient money to bring up
+the six orphan children comfortably and well.  Alison, the eldest girl,
+was now seventeen, and was earning her own living in a shop near by.
+David was also doing something for himself, but the four younger
+children were still dependent on Grannie.  They were all like her as
+regards high spirits, cleanliness, and a certain bright way of looking
+at life.
+
+"I'll not be discouraged, and I'll not believe that doctor," she
+murmured, as she mounted the long flight of stairs which led to the
+fifth floor.  "Aint I always 'ad good luck all the days o' a long
+life?"  She reached her own landing at last, panting a little for
+breath as she did so.  She opened her hall door with a latch-key and
+entered the kitchen.  The kitchen was absolutely neat, the stove shone
+like a looking-glass, the dinner was cooking in the oven, and the table
+round which the entire family were soon to dine already wore its coarse
+white cloth.
+
+"There, I'm not going to murmur," said the old woman to herself.
+
+She went into her bedroom, took off her shawl, shook it out, folded it
+neatly, and put it away.  She took off her bonnet and dusted it, pinned
+it into an old white cambric handkerchief, and laid it beside the shawl
+on a little shelf.  Her white gloves and white handkerchief shared the
+same attention.  Then she brushed her white hair, put on a neat cap,
+and returned to the kitchen.
+
+Ten minutes afterward this kitchen was full of noise, life, and
+confusion.  The four younger children had come back from Board school.
+Harry, the eldest boy, had rushed in from a bookseller's near by, and
+Alison, who served behind a counter in one of the shops in Shoreditch,
+had unexpectedly returned.
+
+Alison was a very tall and pretty girl.  She had dark blue eyes and an
+upright carriage; her hair was golden with some chestnut shades in it.
+She had a clear complexion like her grandmother's, and firm lips, with
+a sweet expression.  As a rule she had a cheerful face, but to-day she
+looked anxious.  Grannie gave her one quick glance, and guessed at once
+that something was troubling her.
+
+"Now, I wonder what's up?" she thought.  "Well, I shan't burden the
+child with my troubles to-day."
+
+"Come," she said in a hearty voice, "sit you all down in your places.
+Kitty, my girl, say your grace.  That's right," as the child folded her
+hands, closed her eyes, raised her piping voice, and pronounced a grace
+in rhyme in a sing-song tone.
+
+The moment the grace was finished a huge potato pie made its appearance
+out of the oven, and the meal--good, hearty, and nourishing--began.
+Grannie helped all the children.  She piled the daintiest bits on
+Alison's plate, watching the girl without appearing to do so as she
+played with her dinner.
+
+"Come, Ally, you are not eating," said Grannie.  "This will never do.
+It's a real pleasure to have you back in the middle of the day, and you
+must show it by making a good meal.  Ah, that's better.  Help your
+sister to some bread, David."
+
+David was between fifteen and sixteen years of age, a fine well-grown
+lad.  He looked attentively at Alison, opened his lips as if to say
+something, caught a warning glance from her eyes, and was instantly
+silent.  Alison forced herself to eat some of the nourishing pie, then
+she looked full at Grannie.
+
+"By the way, Grannie," she said, "you were to see the doctor at the
+London Hospital this morning, were you not?"
+
+"Yes, child; what about it?  I'll have a piece of bread, David, if you
+will cut it for me."
+
+David did so.  Alison detected some concealment in Grannie's voice, and
+pursued her inquiries.
+
+"What did he say?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, what didn't he say.  Nothing special--the old kind of story.  I
+never thought much of plaguing a doctor for a common sort of thing like
+this.  I'm to rub the hand with liniment three times a day.  There's
+the bottle on that shelf.  I 'spect I'll be all right in a week or a
+fortnight.  Now, children, hurry up with your dinner; you'll have to be
+off to school in less than ten minutes, so there's no time to lose."
+
+The children began to eat quickly.  Alison and David again exchanged
+glances.  Harry suddenly pushed back his chair.
+
+"You say your grace before you go," said Grannie, fixing him with her
+bright blue eyes.
+
+He blushed a little, muttered a word or two, and then left the room.
+
+"Harry is a good lad," said the old lady when he had gone, "but he is
+getting a bit uppish.  He's a masterful sort.  He aint like you, Dave."
+
+"I am masterful in my own way," answered David.
+
+He crossed the room, bent over the little old woman, and kissed her on
+the forehead.
+
+"Harry and I will be a bit late to-night," he said.  "We've joined a
+boys' club in Bethnal Green."
+
+"A club?" said Grannie.  "You're young to be out at nights by yourself.
+What sort of club?"
+
+"Oh, It's a first-rate sort.  It has been opened by a good man.  He's a
+right down jolly fellow, though he is a swell.  There's boxing and all
+kinds of good games going on there."
+
+"It's all right, Grannie," interrupted Alison.  "Boys must grow into
+men," she added, in a quick voice.
+
+"Dear me," answered the old woman, "I don't know nothing, I suppose!
+When I was young, boys in their teens stayed at home.  But there! you
+are a good lad, Dave, and I'll trust you to keep Harry out of mischief."
+
+"Harry is well enough, Grannie, if you'd only trust him."
+
+"Well, I suppose I must.  Give me a kiss, Dave, and be off.  Children,
+loves, what are you pottering about for?"
+
+"We're ready to go now, Grannie," said the little ones.
+
+They shouldered their bags, put on their hats, and left the room with
+considerable clatter, only first of all each small pair of legs made
+for Grannie's chair, each rosy pair of lips bestowed a vigorous kiss
+upon her apple-blossom cheeks.  She patted them on their shoulders,
+smiled at them with happy eyes full of love; and they rushed off to
+school, grumbling a little at her quick, abrupt ways, but loving her
+well deep down in their hearts.
+
+Alison stood up and began to put away the dinner things.  Alison and
+Mrs. Reed were now alone.  The old woman looked anxiously at the girl.
+Alison's figure was very slight and graceful.  She wore her shop dress,
+too, a neat black alpaca.  The young ladies in the shops in High
+Street, Shoreditch, could not afford black silk, but the shop in
+question was a good one, and black alpaca, neatly made, had quite as
+good an effect.  Alison's hair was put up stylishly on her head.  She
+wore a little bit of cheap lace round her throat, and a bit of the same
+came from under the neat wrists of her dress.  Two or three small
+chrysanthemums were pinned at her bosom.  Grannie thought her quite the
+lady.
+
+"I wish, child, you wouldn't slave yourself!" she said at last
+impatiently.  "What's the old woman for if it isn't to wash up and put
+in order? and I'm quite certain you ought to be back at the shop by
+now."
+
+"I'm not going back," said Alison, in a low tone.
+
+Grannie had guessed this from the first.  She did not speak at all for
+a minute, then she chose to dally with the evil tidings.
+
+"It's a holiday you are having most like," she said.  "I didn't know
+they gave 'em at this time of the year, but I'm real glad.  I expect
+you let Jim Hardy know.  He'll be sure to be round bimeby when his
+work's over, and you'd like the kitchen to yourselves, wouldn't you?"
+
+"No, Grannie, no," said Alison abruptly.  "There's no Jim for me any
+more, and there's no work, and--and--I'm in _trouble_--I'm in trouble."
+
+She crossed the room impulsively, went on her knees, swept her two
+young arms round Grannie's frail figure, laid her head on the little
+woman's sloping shoulder, and burst into tears.
+
+Grannie was wonderfully comforting and consoling.  She did not express
+the least surprise.  She patted Alison on her cheek.  She allowed the
+girl to grasp her painful right hand and swollen arm without a word of
+protest.
+
+"There, lovey, there, cry your heart out," she exclaimed.  "You 'a'
+lost your situation.  Well, you aint the first; you'll soon get
+another, dearie, and you'll be a rare bit of comfort to me at home for
+a few days.  There, set down close to me, darlin', and tell me
+everythink.  Wot's up, my pretty, wot's wrong?"
+
+"I thought I wouldn't tell you," said Alison, stopping to wipe her
+tears away, "but I can't keep it back.  They have accused me in the
+shop of stealing a five-pound note out of the till.  Yes, Grannie, no
+wonder you open your eyes.  It is true; I am accused of being a thief.
+They are all sure that I have done it.  A five-pound note is missing;
+and you know how Mr. Shaw has sometimes trusted me, and sometimes, when
+he has been very busy, he has allowed me to go to the desk and open the
+till and take out change.  Well, that was what happened to-day.  A
+customer came in and asked Mr. Shaw to change a five-pound note for
+him, and Mr. Shaw went to the till to get the change, and then he shut
+it up, but he left the key in the lock, meaning to get back to his
+place at the desk in a minute; but business kept him, and I was the
+very next person to go to the till.  I locked it after I had taken out
+the change, and gave him the key.  He went back in a minute or two to
+take out the money to carry to the bank, and the five-pound note was
+missing.  He asked me out sharp if I had taken it--you know how red I
+get when anyone suspects me.  I felt myself blushing awfully, and then
+the other girls stopped working and the men, even Jim, stared at me,
+and I blushed hotter and hotter every minute.  Then Mr. Shaw said: 'You
+were overcome by temptation, Alison Reed, and you took the money; but
+give it back to me now at once, and I'll promise to forgive you, and
+say nothing more about it.'
+
+"Oh, I was so angry, and I said they might search me, and Mr. Shaw got
+angry then, and he got one of the girls to feel me all over and to turn
+my pockets inside out, and he called himself real kind not to get in
+the police.  Oh, Grannie, of course they couldn't find it on me, but I
+was searched there in the shop before everyone.  How am I ever to get
+over the shame?  I was nearly mad with passion, and I gave notice on
+the spot, and here I am.  I told Mr. Shaw that I would never enter his
+shop again until I was cleared, and I mean to keep my word.
+
+"Mr. Shaw seemed more angry with me for giving notice than he was at
+the loss of the note.  He said he was certain I took it, for no one
+else could, and that I had hid it somewhere, and that I was afraid to
+stay, and he said he wouldn't give me any character.  So here I am,
+Grannie.  I have lost my eight shillings a week, and I have lost my
+character, and I am suspected of being a thief--here I am, good for
+nothing.  I have just got my neat shop dress and that is all."
+
+"And does Jim Hardy know?" asked Grannie.
+
+"He was in the shop, of course, and heard everything.  I saw he wanted
+to speak, but they wouldn't let him; if he asks me again to be his
+wife, I shall say 'no' to him.  I never was quite certain whether I'd
+do right or wrong in marrying him, but now I'm positive.  Jim's a right
+good fellow, but he shan't ever have it to say that his wife was
+accused of theft.  I'm going to refuse him, Grannie.  I suppose I'll
+bear all this as well as another.  I'm young, anyway, and you believe
+in me, dont you?"
+
+"Believe in you?  of course!" said Mrs. Reed.  "I never heard of such a
+shameful thing in all my life.  Why, you are as honest as the day.  Of
+course that note will be found, and Mr. Shaw, who knows your value,
+will ask you to go back fast enough.  It 'll be all right, that it
+will.  I know what I'll do, I'll go straight to the shop and speak
+about it.  I'm not going to stand this, whoever else is.  It aint a
+slight thing, Alison; it aint the sort of thing that a girl can get
+over.  There are you, only seventeen, and so pretty and like a real
+lady.  Yes, you are; you needn't pertend you aint.  Me and my people
+were always genteel, and you take after us.  I'll see to it.  You
+shan't be accused of theft, my dear, ef I can help it."
+
+"But you can't help it, Grannie dear.  Whatever you say they won't
+believe you.  There is a girl I hate at the shop, and only that I know
+it is impossible, I could believe that she had a finger in the pie.
+Her name is Louisa Clay.  She is rather handsome, and at one time we
+used to be friends, but ever since Jim and I began to keep company she
+has looked very black at me.  I think she has a fancy that Jim would
+have taken to her but for me; anyhow, I could not help seeing how
+delighted she looked when I went out of the shop.  Oh, let it be,
+Grannie; what is the use of interfering?  You may talk yourself hoarse,
+but they won't believe you."
+
+"Believe me or not, Mr. Shaw has got to hear what I say," answered the
+old woman.  "I am not going to see my girl slighted, nor falsely
+accused, nor her good name taken from her without interfering.  It is
+no use talking, Alison; I will have my way in this matter."
+
+Grannie rose from her chair as she spoke.  Her cheeks were quite
+flushed new, her eyes were almost too bright, and her poor hand ached
+and ached persistently.  Alison, who had been sitting on the floor
+shedding tears now and then, rose slowly, walked to the window, and
+looked out.  She was feeling half stunned.  She was by nature a very
+bright, happy girl.  Until this moment things had gone well with her in
+life.  She was clever, and had carried all before her at the Board
+school.  She was also pretty, and, as Grannie expressed it, "genteel."
+She had got a good post in a good shop, and until to-day had been
+giving marked satisfaction.  Her earnings were of great value to the
+little home party, and she was likely before long to have a rise.  Mr.
+Shaw, the owner of the haberdasher's shop in which she worked, talked
+of making Alison his forewoman before long.  She had a stylish
+appearance.  She showed off his mantles and hats to advantage; she had
+a good sharp eye for business; she was very civil and obliging; she won
+her way with all his customers; there was not a girl in the shop who
+could get rid of remnants like Alison; in short, she was worth more
+than a five-pound note to him, and when she was suddenly accused of
+theft, in his heart of hearts he was extremely sorry to lose her.
+Alison was too happy up to the present moment not to do her work
+brightly and well.
+
+The foreman in Shaw's shop was a young man of about four-and-twenty.
+His name was Hardy.  He was a handsome fellow; he had fallen in love
+with Alison almost from the first moment he had seen her.  A week ago
+he had asked her to be his wife; she had not yet given him her answer,
+but she had long ago given him her heart.
+
+Now everything was changed; a sudden and very terrible blow had fallen
+on the proud girl.  Her pride was humiliated to the very dust.  She had
+held her head high, and it was now brought low.  She resolved never to
+look at Hardy again.  Nothing would induce her to go back to the shop.
+Oh, yes, Grannie might go to Mr. Shaw and talk as much as she liked,
+but nothing would make matters straight now.
+
+Mrs. Reed was very quick about all she said and did.  She was tired
+after her long morning of waiting in the Out-Patients' Department of
+the London Hospital, but mere bodily fatigue meant very little to her.
+One of her nurslings--the special darling of her heart--was humiliated
+and in danger.  It was her duty to go to the rescue.  She put on her
+black bonnet and neat black shawl, encased her little hands once again
+in her white cotton gloves, and walked briskly through the kitchen.
+
+"I'm off, Ally," she said.  "I'll be back soon with good news."
+
+Then she paused near the door.
+
+"Ef you have a bit of time you might go on with some of the
+needlework," she said.
+
+She thought of the hand which ached so sorely.
+
+"Yes, Grannie," replied Alison, turning slowly and looking at her.
+
+"You'll find the basket in the cupboard, love.  I'm doing the
+feather-stitching now; don't you spoil the pattern."
+
+"No, Grannie," answered the girl.  Then she added abruptly, her lips
+quivering: "There aint no manner of use in your going out and tiring
+yourself."
+
+"Use or not, I am going," said Mrs. Reed.
+
+"By the way, if Jim should happen to come in, be sure you keep him.  I
+have a bit of a saveloy in the cupboard to make a flavor for his tea.
+Don't you bother with that feather-stitching if Jim should be here."
+
+"He won't be here," said Alison, compressing her lips.
+
+Mrs. Reed pottered down the long steep flight of steps, and soon found
+herself in the street.  The fog had grown thicker than ever.  It was
+very dense indeed now.  It was so full of sulphuric acid that it
+smarted the eyes and hurt the throats and lungs of the unfortunate
+people who were obliged to be out in it.  Grannie coughed as she
+threaded her way through the well-known streets.
+
+"Dear, dear," she kept muttering under her breath, "wot an evil world
+it is!  To think of a young innocent thing being crushed in that sort
+of cruel way!  Wot do it mean?  Of course things must be set right.
+I'll insist on that.  I aint a Reed for nothing.  The Reeds are
+well-born folks, and my own people were Phippses, and they were
+well-born too.  And as to the luck o' them, why, 'twas past tellin'.
+It don't do for one who's Phipps and Reed both, so to speak, to allow
+herself to be trampled on.  I'll soon set things straight.  I've got
+sperrit, wotever else I aint got."
+
+She reached Shaw's establishment at last.  It was getting well into the
+afternoon, and for some reason the shop was more full than usual.  It
+was a very cheap shop and a very good one--excellent bargains could be
+found there--and all the people around patronized it.  Alison was
+missed to-day, having a very valuable head for business.  Shaw, the
+owner of the shop; was standing near the doorway.  He felt cross and
+dispirited.  He did not recognize Mrs. Reed when she came in.  He
+thought she was a customer, and bowed in an obsequious way.
+
+"What can I serve you with, madam?" he said.  "What department do you
+want to go to?"
+
+"To none, thank you, sir," answered Mrs. Reed.  "I have come to see Mr.
+Shaw.  I'll be much obleeged if I can have a few words with him."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Shaw!  Well, I happen to be that gentleman.  I am certainly
+very much occupied at present; in fact, my good woman, I must trouble
+you to call at a less busy time."
+
+"I must say a word to you now, sir, if you please," said Mrs. Reed,
+raising her eyes and giving him a steady glance.  "My name is Reed.  I
+have come about my grandchild."
+
+"Oh," said the owner of the shop, "you are Mrs. Reed."  His brow
+cleared instantly.  "I shall be pleased to see you, madam.  Of course
+you have come to talk over the unpleasant occurrence of this morning.
+I am more grieved than I can say.  Step this way, madam, if you please."
+
+He marched Grannie with pomp through the crowd of customers; a moment
+later she found herself in his private office.
+
+"Now," he said, "pray be seated.  I assure you, Mrs. Reed, I greatly
+regret----"
+
+"Ef you please, sir," said Grannie, "it is not to hear your regrets
+that I have come here.  A great wrong has been done my granddaughter.
+Alison is a good girl, sir.  She has been well brought up, and she
+would no more touch your money than I would.  I come of a respectable
+family, Mr. Shaw.  I come of a stock that would scorn to steal, and I
+can't say more of Alison than that she and me are of one mind.  She
+left her 'ome this morning as happy a girl as you could find, and came
+back at dinner time broken-'earted.  Between breakfast and dinner a
+dreadful thing happened to her; she was accused of stealing a
+five-pound note out of your till.  She said she were innocent, but was
+not believed.  She was searched in the presence of her fellow shop
+people.  Why, sir, is it likely she could get over the shame o' that?
+Of course you didn't find the money on her, but you have broke her
+heart, and she 'ave left your service."
+
+"Well, madam, I am very sorry for the whole thing, but I do not think I
+can be accused of undue harshness to your granddaughter.  Circumstances
+were strongly against her, but I didn't turn her off.  She took the law
+into her own hands, as far as that is concerned."
+
+"Of course she took the law into her own hands, Mr. Shaw.  'Taint
+likely that a girl wot has come of the Phippses and the Reeds would
+stand that sort of conduct.  I'm her grandmother, born a Phipps, and I
+ought to know.  You used rough words, sir, and you shamed her before
+everyone, and you refused her a _character_, so she can't get another
+place.  Yes, sir, you have taken her character and her bread from her
+by the same _h_act, and wot I have come to say is that I won't have it."
+
+Mr. Shaw began to lose his temper--little Mrs. Reed had long ago lost
+hers.
+
+"Look here, my good woman," he said, "it's very fine for you to talk in
+that high-handed style to me, but you can't get over the fact that five
+pounds are missing."
+
+"I 'aven't got over it, sir; and it is because I 'aven't that I've come
+to talk to you to-day.  The money must be found.  You must not leave a
+stone unturned until it is found, for Alison must be cleared of this
+charge.  That is wot I have come to say.  There's someone else a thief
+in your house, sir, but it aint my girl."
+
+"I am inclined to agree with you," said Shaw, in a thoughtful voice,
+"and I may as well say now that I regret having acted on the impulse of
+the moment.  The facts of the case are these: Between eleven and twelve
+o'clock to-day, one of my best customers came here and asked me to give
+him change for a five-pound note.  I went to the till and did so,
+taking out four sovereigns and a sovereign's worth of silver, and
+dropped the five-pound note into the till in exchange.  In my hurry I
+left the key in the till.  Miss Reed was standing close to me, waiting
+to ask me a question, while I was attending to my customer.  As soon as
+he had gone she began to speak about some orders which had not been
+properly executed.  While I was replying to her, and promising to look
+into the matter, a couple of customers came in.  Miss Reed began to
+attend to them.  They bought some ribbons and gloves, and put down a
+sovereign to pay for them.  She asked me for change, and being in a
+hurry at the moment, I told her to go to the till and help herself.
+She did so, bringing back the change, and at the same time giving me
+the key of the till.  I put the key into my pocket, and the usual
+business of the morning proceeded.  After a time I went to open the
+till to take out the contents in order to carry the money to the bank.
+I immediately missed the five-pound note.  You will see for yourself,
+Mrs. Reed, that suspicion could not but point to your granddaughter.
+She had seen the whole transaction.  To my certain knowledge no one
+else could have gone to the till without being noticed.  I put the
+five-pound note into the till with my own hands.  Miss Reed went at my
+request to get change for a customer.  She locked the till and brought
+me the key, and when I next went to it the five-pound note had
+disappeared."
+
+"And you think that evidence sufficient to ruin the whole life and
+character of a respectable girl?" said Mrs. Reed.
+
+"There is no use in your taking that high tone, madam.  The evidence
+against Miss Reed was sufficient to make me question her."
+
+"Accuse her, you mean," said Mrs. Reed.
+
+"Accuse her, if you like then, madam, of the theft."
+
+"Which she denied, Mr. Shaw."
+
+"Naturally she would deny it, Mrs. Reed."
+
+"And then you had her searched."
+
+"I was obliged to do so for the credit of the whole establishment, and
+the protection of my other workpeople; the affair had to be gone
+properly into."
+
+"But you found nothing on her."
+
+"As you say, I found nothing.  If Miss Reed took the money she must
+have hidden it somewhere else."
+
+"Do you still think she took it?"
+
+"I am inclined to believe she did not, but the puzzle is, who did? for
+no one else had the opportunity."
+
+"You may be certain," said Mrs. Reed, "that someone else did have the
+opportunity, even without your knowing it.  Clever thieves can do that
+sort of thing wonderful sharp, I have heard say; but Alison aint that
+sort.  Now, what do you mean to do to clear my granddaughter?"
+
+"I tell you what I'll do," said Shaw, after a pause.  "I like your
+granddaughter.  I am inclined to believe, in spite of appearances, that
+she is innocent.  I must confess that she acted very insolently to me
+this morning, and for the sake of the other shop people she must
+apologize; but if she will apologize I will have her back--there, I
+can't act fairer than that."
+
+"Nothing will make her step inside your shop, sir, until she is
+cleared."
+
+"Oh, well!" said Mr. Shaw, rising, "she must take the consequence.  She
+is a great fool, for she'll never get such a chance again.  Suspicion
+is strong against her.  I am willing to overlook everything, and to let
+the affair of the five pounds sink into oblivion.  Your granddaughter
+is useful to me, and, upon my word, I believe she is innocent.  If she
+does not come back, she will find it extremely difficult to get another
+situation."
+
+"Sir," said Mrs. Reed, "you don't know Alison.  Nothing will make her
+set her foot inside this shop until the real thief is found.  Are you
+going to find him or are you not?"
+
+"I will do my best, madam, and if that is your last word, perhaps you
+will have the goodness not to take up any more of my valuable time."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+Mrs. Reed left the shop, and went home as quickly as her small, active
+feet could carry her.  She was feeling quite brisked up by her
+interview with Shaw, and her indignation supplied her with strength.
+She got back to the model lodging in Sparrow Street, mounted to her own
+floor, and opened the door with a latch-key.  Alison was sitting by the
+window, busy over the needlework which Grannie would have done had she
+been at home.  Alison was but an indifferent worker, whereas Grannie
+was a very beautiful one.  Few people could do more lovely hand work
+than Mrs. Reed.  She was famous for her work, and got, as such things
+go, good prices for it.  The very best shops in the West End employed
+her.  She was seldom without a good job on hand.  She had invented a
+new pattern in feather-stitching which was greatly admired, and which
+she was secretly very proud of--it was an intricate pattern, and it
+made a very good show.  No other workwoman knew how to do it, and
+Grannie was very careful not to impart her secret to the trade.  This
+feather-stitching alone gave her a sort of monopoly, and she was too
+good a woman of business not to avail herself of it.  It was the
+feather-stitching which had mostly tried her poor hand and arm, and
+brought on the horrid pain which the doctor had called writers' cramp.
+
+"Some doctors are out-and-out fools," murmured the old woman to
+herself.  "He were a very nice spoke gentleman--tall and genteel, and
+he treated me like a lady, which any true man would; but when he said I
+had got writers' cramp in this hand, it must have been nonsense.  For
+there, I never write; ef I spell through a letter once in six months to
+my poor sister's only child in Australia, it's the very most that I can
+do.  Writers' cramp, indeed!  Well, it's a comfort to know that he must
+be wrong.  I wonder how Ally has got on with the work.  Poor dear!
+I'll have to do more of that feather-stitching than ever, now that Ally
+has lost her situation."
+
+Alison looked up and saw her grandmother standing near her.  She had,
+of course, been taught the feather-stitching.  Mrs. Reed had confided
+this important secret to her once in a time of serious illness.
+
+"For I may die, and it may go out of the fam'ly," she said.  "It was
+begun by my grandmother, who got the first notion of it in the sort of
+trail of the leaves.  My grandmother was a Simpson--most respectable
+folk--farmers of the best sort.  She had wonderful linen, as fine as
+silk.  She made it all herself, and then she hemmed it and marked it
+and feather-stitched it with them trailing leaves.  She taught the
+trail to my mother, who married Phipps, and mother had a turn for
+needlework, and she gave it that little twist and rise which makes it
+so wonderful pretty and neat; but 'twas I popped on the real finish,
+quilting it, so to speak, and making it the richest trimming, and the
+most dainty you could find.  You must learn it, Alison; it would be a
+sin and a shame for it to die with me.  It must stay in the fam'ly, and
+you must 'ave it on yer wedding linen, that you must."
+
+Grannie had taken great pains teaching Alison, and Alison had tried
+hard to learn, but, unlike the Phippses and the Simpsons, she had no
+real turn for fine needlework.  She learned the wonderful stitch, it is
+true, but only in a sort of fashion.
+
+Now, the secret of that stitch it is not for me to disclose.  It had to
+be done with a twist here, and a loop there, and a sudden clever
+bringing round of the thread from the left to the right at a critical
+moment; then followed a still more clever darting of the needle through
+a loop, which suddenly appeared just when it was least expected.  The
+feather-stitching involved many movements of the hand and arm, and
+certainly gave a splendid effect to the fine linen or cambric on which
+it was worked.  Grannie could do it almost with her eyes shut, but
+Alison, who thought she knew all about it, found when she began to
+practice that she had not taken the right loop nor the proper twist,
+and she quite forgot the clever under-movement which brought the thread
+from left to right, and made that sort of crinkled scroll which all the
+other workwomen in West London tried to imitate in vain.  Grannie was
+trimming some beautiful underlinen for a titled lady; it was made of
+the finest cambric, and the feather-stitching was to be a special
+feature.
+
+She stood now, looked down at her pretty grandchild, and saw that she
+had ruined the work.
+
+"Poor dear," muttered the old woman to herself, "she dint got the turn
+of it, or maybe her head is confused.  No wonder, I'm sure; for a
+cleverer nor neater girl than Alison don't live."
+
+"There, my love," she said, speaking aloud, "I've come back.  You can
+put away the work now."
+
+"Oh, Grannie!" said the girl, looking up with flushed cheeks, "have I
+done it right?  It looks wrong somehow; it aint a bit rich like what
+you do."
+
+"Dearie me," said the old woman, "as ef that mattered.  You pop it back
+into my drawer now."
+
+"But have I done any harm?"
+
+"Of course not, lovey.  Pop it into the drawer and come and make
+yourself smart for Jim."
+
+"For Jim?" said Alison, looking up with a glow on her cheeks, her eyes
+shining.  "You speak as if you had good news; has anything been
+discovered?"
+
+Grannie had made up her mind to cheer Alison by every means in her
+power.  She sat down now on the nearest chair, untied her
+bonnet-strings, and looked affectionately at the girl.
+
+"I have good news," she said; "yes, all things considered, I have."
+
+"Is the money found, grandmother?"
+
+"You couldn't expect it to be yet.  Of course, _she_ wot took it hid
+it--wot else can you expect?"
+
+"Oh, then nothing matters!" said Alison, her head drooping.
+
+"Dearie me, child, that's no way to take misfortin.  The whole thing
+from first to last was just a bit of bad luck, and luck's the queerest
+thing in life.  I have thought over luck all my long years, and am not
+far from seventy, thank the Lord for his goodness, and I can't
+understand it yet.  Luck's agen yer, and nothing you can do will make
+it for yer, jest for a spell.  Then, for no rhyme or reason, it 'll
+turn round, and it's for yer, and everything prospers as yer touches,
+and you're jest as fort'nate as you were t'other way.  With a young
+thing like you, Ally, young and pretty and genteel, luck aint never
+'ard; it soon turns, and it will with you.  No, the money's not found
+yet," continued the old woman, rising and taking off her bonnet and
+giving it a little shake; "but it's sure to be to-night or to-morrow,
+for I've got the promise of the master that he won't leave a stone
+unturned to find out the thief.  I did give him my mind, Alison.  I
+wish you could have heard me.  I let out on him.  I let him see what
+sort of breed I am'--a Phipps wot married a Reed."
+
+"Oh, as if that mattered!" groaned Alison.
+
+"Well, it did with him, love.  Breed allers tells.  You may be low-born
+and nothing will 'ide it--not all the dress and not all the, by way of,
+fine manners.  It's jest like veneer--it peels off at a minute's
+notice.  But breed's true to the core; it wears.  Alison, it wears to
+the end."
+
+"Well, Grannie," said Alison, who had often heard these remarks before,
+"what did Mr. Shaw really say?"
+
+"My love, he treated me werry respectful.  He told me the whole story,
+calm and quiet, and then he said that he was quite sure himself that
+you was innocent."
+
+"He didn't say that, really?"
+
+"I tell you he did, child; and wot's more, he offered you the place
+back again."
+
+It was Alison's turn now to rise to her feet.  She laughed hysterically.
+
+"And does he think I'll go," she said, "with this hanging over me?  No!
+I'd starve first.  If that's all, he has his answer.  I'll never go
+back to that shop till I'm cleared.  Oh, I don't know where your good
+news is," she continued; "everything seems very black and dreadful.  If
+it were not for----"  Her rosy lips trembled; she did not complete her
+sentence.
+
+"I could bear it," she said, in a broken voice, "if it were not
+for----"  Again she hesitated, rushed suddenly across the room, and
+locked herself into the little bedroom which she shared with one of her
+sisters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+Grannie pottered about and got the tea.  As she did so she shook her
+old head, and once a dim moisture came to her eyes.  Her hand ached so
+painfully that if she had been less brave she would have sat down and
+given herself up to the misery which it caused her.  But Grannie had
+never thought much of herself, and she was certainly not going to do so
+to-day when her darling was in such trouble.
+
+"Whatever I do, I mustn't let out that Ally failed in the
+feather-stitching," she said to herself.  "I'll unpick it to-night when
+she is in bed.  She has enough to bear without grieving her.  I do hope
+Jim will come in about supper time.  I should think he was safe to.  I
+wonder if I could rub a little of that liniment onto my 'and myself.
+It do burn so; to think that jest a little thing of this sort should
+make me mis'rible.  Talk of breed!  I don't suppose I'm much, after
+all, or I'd not fret about a trifle of this sort."
+
+The tea was laid on the table--the coarse brown loaf, the pat of
+butter, the huge jug of skim milk, and the teapot full of weak tea.
+The children all came in hungry from school.  Alison returned from her
+bedroom with red eyes.  She cut the bread into thick slices, put a
+scrape of butter on each slice, and helped her brothers and sisters.
+The meal was a homely one, but perfectly nourishing.  The children all
+looked fat and well cared for.  Grannie took great pride in their rosy
+faces, and in their plump, firm limbs.  She and Alison between them
+kept all the family together.  She made plenty of money with her
+beautiful needlework, and Alison put the eight shillings which she
+brought home every Saturday night from the shop into the common fund.
+She had her dinner at the shop, which was also a great help.  Dave was
+beginning to earn about half a crown a week, which kept him in shoes
+and added a very tiny trifle to the general purse; but Harry was still
+not only an expense, but an anxiety to the family.  The three younger
+children were, of course, all expense at present, but Grannie's
+feather-stitching and lovely work and Alison's help kept the little
+family well-off.  As the old woman watched them all to-night, she
+laughed softly under her breath at the stupid mistake the doctor had
+made.
+
+"Ef he had said anything but writers' cramp, I might 'a' been nervous,"
+she said to herself, "but writers' cramp aint possible to anyone as
+don't write.  I don't place much store by doctors after that stoopid
+mistake; no, that I don't."
+
+Alison's face was very pale.  She scarcely spoke during tea.  The
+children were surprised to see her at home both for dinner and tea, and
+began to question her.
+
+"Now, you shet up, you little curiosity boxes," said Grannie, in her
+brisk, rather aggressive voice.  "Ally is at home--well, because she
+is."
+
+"Oh, Grannie! what sort of answer is that?" cried Polly, the youngest
+girl.
+
+"It's the only one you'll get, Miss Pry," replied Grannie.
+
+The other children laughed, and began to call Polly "Miss Pry," and
+attention was completely diverted from Alison.
+
+After the tea-things had been washed and the children had settled down
+to their books and different occupations, there came a knock at the
+door, and Hardy entered.
+
+Alison was in her bedroom.
+
+"Set down, Mr. Hardy," said Grannie, if her cheerful voice.  "You've
+come to see Ally, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, if I may," answered the young man, an anxious expression on his
+face.
+
+"To be sure you may; who more welcome?  Children, run into my bedroom,
+dears.  I'll turn on the gas and you can study your books in there.
+Run now, and be quick about it."
+
+"It's so cold," said Polly.
+
+"Tut, tut, not another word; scatter, all of you."
+
+The children longed particularly to stay; they were very fond of Hardy,
+who generally brought them sweets.  Polly's quick eyes had seen a white
+parcel sticking out of his pocket.  It was horrid to have to go into
+Grannie's bedroom.  It was an icy-cold room; just, too, when the
+kitchen was most enticing.  They had to go, however, and Grannie shut
+the door behind them.
+
+"Poor things, it will be cold for them in there," said the young man.
+
+"Tut, tut," answered Grannie again, "you don't want 'em to be brought
+up soft and lazy and good for naught.  Now then, Jim, set down and make
+yourself at home."
+
+"How is she?" asked Hardy, speaking in a low voice, and raising his
+handsome eyes to the old lady's face.
+
+Grannie's eyes blazed in reply.
+
+"How do you expect her to be?" she answered.  "Publicly shamed as she
+were; I wonder you didn't take her part, Jim, that I do."
+
+"I felt stunned," replied Hardy; "it was all so sudden.  I tried to
+push forward and to speak, but I was prevented.  There was such an
+excitement, and Mr. Shaw was in a towering passion--there's no doubt of
+that.  I'm sorry she has left, though."
+
+"Well," said Grannie, "she's had the offer to take her place again if
+she likes."
+
+"Has she?  Then he doesn't believe her to be guilty?"
+
+"No; who would who knew her?"
+
+"Who would, indeed?" answered the young man, a glow of pride and
+pleasure o& his face.
+
+"I'll tell her you are here in a minute," said Grannie, "and then I'll
+leave you two the kitchen to yourselves.  But before I go away I jest
+want to say one thing--Alison won't go back."
+
+"Won't?"
+
+"No, nor would I let her.  Alison will stay here till she's cleared.
+You are in the shop, Jim, and it's your business to find the
+thief--that is, ef you love my girl, wot I take it you do."
+
+"With all my heart, that I do," he replied.
+
+"Then your work's cut out for you.  Now you may see her."
+
+Grannie stepped across the kitchen.  She opened Alison's door a quarter
+of an inch.
+
+"Jim's here, Ally," she said.  "I've a job of work in my bedroom, and
+the children are out of the way.  You two can have the kitchen to
+yourselves ef you want to talk."
+
+Alison's low reply was scarcely discernible.  Grannie went into her
+bedroom, clicking the door behind her.  A moment or two later Hardy
+heard Alison step lightly across her room.  She came out of it, crossed
+the kitchen, and approached his side.  Her face was perfectly white,
+her lips trembled with emotion.  She still wore her shop dress, but
+there was a disheveled sort of look about her which the young man had
+never noticed before.
+
+Her beautiful fair hair was rumpled and in disorder, her deep-blue eyes
+looked pathetic owing to the tears she had shed.  The young man's whole
+heart went out to her at a great bound.  How beautiful she was!  How
+unlike any other girl he had ever seen!  How much he loved her in her
+hour of trouble!
+
+"Oh, Alison," he said, speaking the first words that came to his lips,
+"I could die for you--there!"
+
+Alison burst into tears.  Jim put his arm round her; she did not
+repulse him.  He drew her close to him, and she laid her head on his
+shoulder.  He had never held her so close to him before; he had never
+yet kissed her; now he kissed her soft hair as it brushed against his
+cheek.
+
+"There, there," he said, after a moment or two, during which she sobbed
+in a sort of luxury of grief and happiness; "there, there, my darlin',
+I am between you and all the troubles of this hard world."
+
+"Oh, Jim, but I can't have it," she answered.
+
+She remembered herself in a moment, withdrew her head from his
+shoulder, pressed back his hands, which struggled to hold her, and
+seated herself on a low stool at the opposite side of the little stove.
+
+"It's all over, dear Jim," she said.  "I do love you, I don't deny it;
+but I must say 'no' to-night."
+
+"But why," said Hardy, "why should a nasty, spiteful bit of
+misadventure like what happened to-day divide you and me?  There is no
+sense in it, Alison."
+
+"Sense or no, we can't be engaged," replied Alison.  "I won't have it;
+I love you too well.  I'll never marry anybody while it's held over me
+that I'm a thief."
+
+"But, darlin', you are no more a thief than I am; you are jest the most
+beautiful and the best girl in all the world.  I'll never marry anybody
+ef I don't marry you, Ally.  Oh, I think it is cruel of you to turn me
+away jest because you happen to be the last person seen going to the
+till."
+
+"I'm sorry if I seem cruel, Jim," she replied, "but my mind is quite
+made up.  It's a week to-night since you asked me to be your wife.  I
+love yer, I don't pretend to deny it; I've loved yer for many a month,
+and my heart leaped with joy when you said you loved me, and of course
+I meant to say 'yes.'  But now everything is changed; I'm young, only
+seventeen, and whatever we do now means all our lives, Jim, yours and
+mine.  This morning I were so happy--yes, that I were; and I just
+longed for to-night to come, and I was fit to fly when I went to the
+shop, although there was a fog, and poor Grannie's hand was so painful
+that she had to go to see the doctor at the hospital; but then came the
+blow, and it changed everything, just everything."
+
+"I can't see it," interrupted Jim; "I can't see your meaning; it has
+not changed your love nor mine, and that's the only thing that seems to
+me of much moment.  You jest want me more than ever now, and I guess
+that if you loved me before, you love me better now, so why don't you
+say 'yes'?"
+
+"I can't," she replied; "I have thought it all over.  I was stunned at
+first, but for the last hour or two everything has been very plain to
+me.  I am innocent, Jim.  I no more took that note out of the till than
+you did; but it's gone, and I'm suspected.  I was accused of taking it,
+before the whole shop.  I'm branded, that's what I feel, and nothing
+can take away the brand, and the pain, and the soreness, except being
+cleared.  If I were to say 'yes' to you to-night, Jim, and let you love
+me, and kiss me, and by and by take me afore the parson, and make me
+your lawful wife--I--I wouldn't be the sort of girl you really love.
+The brand would be there, and the soreness, and the shame, and the
+dreadful words would keep ringing in my ears, 'You are a thief, you are
+a thief'--so I couldn't be a good wife to yer, Jim, for that sort of
+thing would wear me out, and I'd be sort of changed; and well as you
+love me now, it would come back to you that once the girl what was your
+wife was called a thief, so I'll never say 'yes'--never, until I'm
+cleared; and somehow I don't expect I ever will be cleared, for the one
+that did me this mischief must be very clever, and deep, and cunning.
+So it's 'good-by,' Jim dear, and you'd better think no more of me, for
+I'll never go back to the shop, and I'll never wed you until I'm
+cleared of this dark, dark deed that is put down to me."
+
+"Then I will clear you; I vow it," said Hardy.
+
+He rose to his feet; he looked very strong, and firm, and determined.
+
+"You don't suppose that I'll lose you for the sake of a five-pound
+note," he said.  "I'll clear you.  Grannie has put it on me, and now
+you put it on me more than ever.  It 'll be only a day or two most like
+that we'll be parted, sweetheart.  Only I wish you wouldn't stick to
+this, Ally.  Let me kiss you, and let me feel that you are my own dear
+love, and I'll work harder than ever to prove that you are innocent as
+the beautiful dawn that you are like.  There was no one ever so
+beautiful as you, like you."
+
+Alison smiled very faintly while Jim was speaking to her, but when he
+approached her and held out his arms, and tried to coax her to come
+into them, she drew back.
+
+"No," she said, "I'm a thief until I'm cleared, and you shan't kiss a
+thief, Jim Hardy, that you shan't."
+
+Her tears broke out afresh as she uttered these words; she flung
+herself on the little settle, and sobbed very bitterly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+Jim walked quickly down the street; the fog had now partly lifted, and
+a very faint breeze came and fanned his cheeks as, with great strides,
+he went in the direction of Bishopsgate Street.  He had lodgings in
+Bishopsgate Without--a tiny room at the top of a house, which he called
+his own, and which he kept beautifully neat, full of books and other
+possessions.  Hanging over his mantelpiece was a photograph of Alison.
+It did not do her justice, failing to reproduce her expression, giving
+no color to the charming, petulant face, and merely reproducing the
+fairly good features without putting any life into them.  When Hardy
+got home and turned on the gas in his little attic, he took the
+photograph down from its place and looked at it hungrily and greedily.
+He was a young giant in his way, strong and muscular and good-looking.
+His dark eyes seemed to gather fire as he looked at Alison's picture;
+his lips, always strong and determined, became obstinate in their
+outline; he clenched one of his strong hands, then put the photograph
+slowly and carefully back in its place.
+
+"I have made a vow," he said to himself.  "I don't remember ever making
+a vow before; I'll keep this vow, so help me Heaven!--I have got to
+clear my girl; yes, when all is said and done, she is my girl.  I'll
+set this thing right before a week is out.  Now let me put on my
+considering cap--let me try to think of this matter as if I were a
+detective.  By the way, there's that friend of mine, Sampson, who is in
+the detective force; I've a good mind to run round to him and ask his
+advice.  There's treachery somewhere, and he might give me a wrinkle or
+two."
+
+Jim put on his cap, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and went
+out once more.  As he was running downstairs he met his landlady--he
+was a favorite with her.  She accosted him with a civil word, and an
+inquiry if he did not want some supper.
+
+"No, thanks," he replied, "I will sup out to-night--good-night, Mrs.
+Higgins."
+
+She nodded and smiled.
+
+"I wonder what's up with him," she sad to herself--"how white he do
+look! and his eyes sorter dazed--he's a right good fellow, and I wish I
+had more like him in the house."
+
+Jim meanwhile was marching quickly in the direction of Sampson's
+lodgings.  He had been brought up in the country, and had never seen
+London until he was seventeen years of age.  His great frame and
+athletic limbs were all country-bred; he could never lose that
+knowledge which had come to him in his boyhood--the knowledge of
+climbing and rowing, of fishing and swimming--the power to use all his
+limbs.  This power had made him big and strong, and London ways and
+London life could not greatly affect him.  He was very clever and very
+steady, and was rising to a good position in the shop.  His thoughts
+were far away now from his own affairs; they were absorbed with
+Alison--with that dreadful shame which surrounded her, and with the vow
+he had made to set his dear love straight.
+
+"If there's treachery, Sampson and me will find it out between us," he
+said to himself.
+
+He was fortunate in finding Sampson in, and very soon unfolded his
+errand.
+
+Sampson was as London-bred as Jim was the reverse.  He was a little
+fellow, with a face like a ferret; he had sharp-peaked features, a pale
+skin with many freckles, very small, keen blue eyes, rather closely set
+together, red hair, which he wore short and stuck up straight all over
+his small head.  His face was clean-shaven, and he had a very alert
+look.  Sampson did not live in an attic--he had a neat, well-furnished
+room, on the third floor.  His room did not show the taste Jim's
+did--it was largely garnished with colored photographs of handsome
+young women, and some of the most celebrated cricketers and boxers of
+the day.  His mantelpiece was covered with pipes and one or two
+policemen's whistles.  He was indulging in a pipe when Jim was
+announced.  He welcomed his friend cordially, asked him to be seated,
+listened to his tale, and then sat silent, thinking very carefully over
+the mystery.
+
+"Well," said Jim, "why don't you speak?  I have got to clear this thing
+in a couple of days.  My girl will have nothing to do with me until she
+is cleared of this shame, so you see how things stand, Sampson.  I have
+got a bit of money put by, and I'll spend it clearing her if you think
+you can help me."
+
+"No, no, 'taint my line," said Sampson, "and, besides, I wouldn't take
+your money, old chap; you are welcome to my advice, but I should only
+rouse suspicion if I were to appear in the matter--still, we can talk
+the thing well over.  It seems to me the point is this, who was the
+person who got to the till while Miss Reed's back was turned?"
+
+"They swear that no one could get to it," replied Jim.  "The till is,
+of course, in the master's desk, and Alison was close to it--she
+scarcely left that part of the shop--at any rate, only to move a foot
+or two away, before the customer arrived whom she was to serve.  She
+served her customer, and went to ask Mr. Shaw for change.  He told her
+that the key was in the till, and that she might help herself.  She
+took the change out and then locked the till.  Alison is anxious enough
+to be cleared, you may be quite sure, but she can't see herself how it
+was possible that anyone else could have got to the till from the
+moment the five-pound note was put into it until she herself took
+change out and then locked it."
+
+"Yes, of course," said Sampson, "so she thinks.  Now, one of three
+things is plain.  You'll forgive me if I speak right out quite plainly,
+my boy?"
+
+"Of course," answered Hardy, with a faint smile.  "You were always
+famous for telling your mind when you liked, Sampson."
+
+"And for keeping it back when I liked," retorted Sampson.  "I wouldn't
+be much of a detective if I didn't do that--still, this is my view of
+the case in a nutshell.  One of three things must have happened--that
+is, granted that Mr. Shaw did put the five-pound note into the till."
+
+"Why, of course he did," said Jim, in surprise.
+
+"We must grant that," interrupted Sampson, "or we have nothing to go
+upon.  Granted that he put the money into the till, one of three things
+happened.  Miss Reed was tempted and helped herself to the five-pound
+note----"
+
+Jim sprang to his feet, he clenched his big fist, and made a step
+toward Sampson, who sat, slight, small, and unprovoked, in his chair.
+
+"Sit down, won't you?" he said.
+
+"Only I want to strangle you and kick you out of the room," said Jim.
+
+"Well, I beg of you to refrain.  I told you that I was a blunt body.  I
+don't think for a moment that Miss Reed took the money.  In that case,
+one of my remaining two suppositions must have happened; either the
+note is still in the drawer, pushed out of sight, or under some loose
+change--hidden, the Lord knows where--or somebody did get to the till
+without Miss Reed seeing that person.  My belief, and my knowledge of
+human nature, induce me to think that the third idea is the right one."
+
+"But no one could," began Jim.
+
+"You can't say that no one could.  Lor' bless you, the artful devices
+of some folks is past counting.  Now tell me, what sort are the other
+girls in the shop?"
+
+"Oh, well enough--a very respectable lot."
+
+"You don't think any of them have a spite against your young woman?"
+
+"Well, no, I don't suppose they have--that is----"
+
+"Ah, you hesitate--that means that one of them has.  Now speak out,
+Jim.  All depends on your being candid."
+
+"Oh, yes!  I'll be candid enough," said Jim; "I never saw anything
+wrong with the young women in the shop.  Of course, except Alison, I
+have not had much to do with any of them, but Ally once said to me that
+a girl called Louisa Clay had, she thought, a spite agen her.  I can't
+imagine why, I'm sure."
+
+"This is interesting," said Sampson.  "Mark my words, Louisa Clay is at
+the bottom of the business.  Now tell me, what sort is she?"
+
+"A handsome, well-mannered girl," replied Jim.  "She's about twenty
+years of age, I should say, with a dash of the gypsy in her, for she
+has coal-black hair and flashing eyes."
+
+"Oh, you seem to have studied her face a bit."
+
+"Well, she is not the sort that you could pass," said Jim, coloring;
+"besides, she wouldn't stand it."
+
+"A jealous sort, would you say?"
+
+"How can I tell?"
+
+"Yes you can, Jim Hardy.  I see the end of this trouble, blest ef I
+don't.  How long has Alison been in the shop?"
+
+"Six months."
+
+"How long have you been there?"
+
+"Oh, several years!  I was apprentice first, and then I rose step by
+step.  I have been with Shaw a matter of six years."
+
+"And how long has Louisa Clay been there?"
+
+"I can't exactly remember, but I should say a year and a half."
+
+Sampson now rose to his feet.
+
+"There we are," he said.  "You are a good-looking chap, Jim; you are
+taller than us London fellows, and you've got a pleasing way with you;
+you were civil to Louisa before Alison came.  Come now, the truth."
+
+"Well, she talked to me now and then," answered the young fellow,
+coloring again.
+
+"Ah, I guess she did, and you talked to her; in fact, you kept company
+with her, or as good."
+
+"No, that I didn't."
+
+"Well, she thought you did, or hoped you would; so it all comes to the
+same.  Then Alison arrived, and you gave Louisa up.  Isn't that so?"
+
+"I never thought about Louisa one way or the other, I assure you,
+Sampson.  Ally and I were friends from the first.  I hadn't known her a
+fortnight before I loved her more than all the rest of the world.  I
+have been courting her ever since.  I never gave a thought to another
+woman."
+
+"Bless me! what an innocent young giant you are; but another woman gave
+you a thought, my hearty, and of course she was jealous of Miss Reed,
+and if she didn't want the money for reasons of her own, she was very
+glad to put a spoke in her wheel."
+
+"Oh, come now, it isn't right to charge a girl like that," said Hardy.
+
+"Right or wrong, I believe I've hit the nail on the head.  Anyhow,
+that's the track for us to work.  Where does this girl Clay live?"
+
+"With her father and mother in Shoreditch.  He's a pawnbroker, and by
+no means badly off."
+
+"You seem to have gone to their house."
+
+"A few times on Sunday evenings.  Louisa asked me."
+
+"Have you gone lately?"
+
+"Not to say very lately."
+
+"Well, what do you say to you and me strolling round there this
+evening?"
+
+"This evening!" cried Jim.  "Oh, come now," he added, "I haven't the
+heart; that I haven't."
+
+"You have no spunk in you.  I thought you wanted to clear your girl."
+
+"Oh, if you put it in that way, Sampson, of course I'll do anything;
+but I can't see your meaning.  I do want, God knows, to clear Alison,
+but I don't wish to drag another girl into it."
+
+"You shan't; that will be my business.  After all, I see I must take
+this thing up; you are not the fellow for it.  The detective line, Jim,
+means walking on eggs without breaking 'em.  You'd smash every egg in
+the farmyard.  The detective line means guile; it means a dash of the
+knowing at every step.  You are as innocent as a babe, and you haven't
+the guile of an unfledged chicken.  You leave this matter with me.  I
+begin to think I'd like to see Miss Clay.  I admire that handsome,
+dashing sort of girl--yes, that I do.  All I want you to do, Jim, is to
+introduce me to the young lady.  If her father is a pawnbroker he must
+have a bit of money to give her, and a gel with a fat purse is just my
+style.  You come along to the Clays and give me a footing in the house,
+and that's all I ask."
+
+Jim hesitated.
+
+"I don't like it," he said.
+
+"Don't like it," repeated Sampson, mimicking his manner.  "I wouldn't
+give much for that vow of yours, young man.  Why, you are a soft Sawny.
+You want to clear your own girl?"
+
+"That I do, God knows."
+
+"Then introduce me to Miss Clay."
+
+"Oh, Sampson, I hope I'm doing right."
+
+"Fiddlesticks with your right.  I tell you this is my affair.  Come
+along now, or it will be too late."
+
+Sampson took down his hat from the wall, and Jim, somewhat unwillingly,
+followed him out of the room and downstairs.  He did not like the job,
+and began to wish he had never consulted Sampson.  But the detective's
+cheery and pleasant talk very soon raised his spirits, and by the time
+the two young men had reached the sign of the Three Balls, Jim had
+persuaded himself that he was acting in a very manly manner, and that
+dear little Alison would soon be his promised wife.
+
+Compared to Jim Hardy and George Sampson the Clays were quite wealthy
+folk.  Louisa need not have gone into a shop at all unless she so
+pleased, but she was a vivacious young person, who preferred having a
+purse of her own to being dependent on her father.  She liked to show
+herself off, and had the sense to see that she looked better in her
+neat black alpaca with its simple trimmings than in any of her
+beflowered and bespangled home dresses.  The Clays were having friends
+to supper this special evening, and the mirth was fast and hilarious
+when Hardy and Sampson entered the room.  Hardy had never seen Louisa
+before in her evening dress.  It gave her a blooming and buxom
+appearance.  The dress was of a flaming red color, slightly open at the
+neck, and with elbow sleeves.  Louisa started and colored when she saw
+Jim.  Her big eyes seemed to flash, and Sampson noticed that she gave
+him a bold, admiring glance.
+
+"She is at the bottom of this, if ever gel was," muttered the detective
+to himself.
+
+He asked Hardy to introduce him; and presently, using that tact for
+which he was famous, induced Louisa to accompany him to a sofa at a
+little distance, where they sat together laughing and chatting, and
+Hardy was relieved to find that he need not pay this bold-looking girl
+any attention.
+
+The supper was over before the young men arrived, but the atmosphere of
+the room was close with a mixture of tobacco and spirits.  Several very
+fat and loudly dressed old ladies were talking to a still fatter and
+more loudly dressed old lady at the head of the room.  This was the
+hostess.  Clay, the pawnbroker, a little man with a deeply wrinkled
+face and shrewd, beadlike, black eyes, was darting in and out amongst
+his friends, laughing loudly, cracking jokes, and making himself
+generally facetious and agreeable.  He clapped Jim on the shoulders,
+assured him that he was delighted to see him, and dragged him up to the
+sofa, where Louisa and Sampson were having a very open flirtation.
+
+"My gel will be right glad to see yer," he said to Jim, with a broad
+wink.  "Eh, Louisa, who have I brought, eh?  You are sure to give Hardy
+a welcome, aint you, lass?"
+
+"If he'll take it, of course," she replied.
+
+She jumped up and gave Jim a second glance of unequivocal admiration.
+
+"It was good of you to come," she said, in a low tone.  "I thought that
+you were a bit troubled to-day; but maybe that is why you have come, to
+be cheered up."
+
+Jim flushed and felt uncomfortable; he could not tell Louisa his real
+motive; he felt ashamed of himself, and longed to be out of this noisy
+scene.
+
+"And it isn't that I don't pity you," she continued.  "Of course I can
+see that you are cut up; who would have thought that a gel like
+Alison----"
+
+Jim put up his big hand.
+
+"Not a word," he said; "I won't discuss it--I can't!"
+
+"You are awful cut up, old fellow, aint you?" said Louisa, moving a
+step or two out of the crowd and motioning him to a corner.  "Look
+here," she continued, "there's a quiet nook here, just under the
+stairs; let us stand here for a minute, I want to talk to yer.  I know
+you are cut up, and I am sorry--yes, that I am."
+
+"I can't discuss it with you, Miss Clay," said Jim.
+
+"Oh, aint it stiff of you to call me Miss Clay!" she retorted; "when
+you know me so well."
+
+"Perhaps it is," he answered, too good-natured to be rude to her.  "I
+will call you Louisa if you like; but Louisa or Miss Clay, whichever
+you are, I can't talk of this matter."
+
+Louisa's great black eyes seemed to blaze like living fires.  She gave
+Jim a long glance.
+
+"Just you tell me one thing," she said, almost in a whisper.
+
+"What is that?" he asked, surprised at her change of tone.
+
+"Are you going to marry Alison Reed, Jim Hardy?"
+
+"You have no right to ask me the question," he replied, "but as you
+have, I will for once answer you frankly.  If I don't marry Alison
+Reed, no other girl shall be my wife."
+
+"Is that a vow?" she asked.
+
+"You can take it as such, if you like," he said.
+
+"I wouldn't make it," she replied.  "No man can tell how he will
+change."
+
+"I'll never change," he replied.  "I think I'll say 'good-night' now."
+
+"Oh, dear! you aint going?  Well, you shan't go until I have had my
+say.  I just wanted to know the truth; now I know it.  Look here, Jim;
+I am your friend, and I am Alison Reed's friend.  There is nothing I
+wouldn't do for either of you.  Alison must be cleared of the shameful
+thing she was accused of in the shop to-day."
+
+"She will be cleared," said Jim; "that is my business.  Good-night,
+Louisa; I must go home."
+
+"One minute first.  I'll help you to clear Miss Reed.  Will you sit
+next me at dinner to-morrow?"
+
+"That is as you like," replied Jim.
+
+"Please do," she added; "I'll have made a plan by then.  Yes, Alison
+must be cleared.  It seems to me that it is more a woman's work than a
+man's."
+
+"No, it is my work," said Jim.  "But I'll sit next to you with
+pleasure; it is nothing to me one way or other."
+
+Louisa's eyes drooped; an angry color flooded her face.
+
+Jim held out his hand; she gave hers: the next minute the two young men
+were again in the street.
+
+"Well," said Sampson, "we have done good business, have we not?"
+
+"I can't see it," replied Jim.  "Louisa is innocent.  I don't like her,
+but she has had no more to do with that affair than I have had; so
+there."
+
+"Louisa Clay is guilty," replied Sampson.  "I may not be able to prove
+it either to-day or to-morrow, but I will prove it before long.  You
+leave this matter in my hands, Jim."
+
+"I hate the whole thing," said Jim; "it seems awfully hard to drag
+another girl into it."
+
+"Well, I don't believe in your sort of love," sneered Sampson; "but
+mark my words: Louisa is the one what took that money.  I have got a
+footing in the house now, and I can work the thing and prove that I am
+right in my own way."
+
+"I don't believe a word of it," said Jim.  "Don't drag me into it any
+further, Sampson, whatever you do."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+Soon after the departure of the two young men, the rest of the guests
+left the Clays' house.  There was no special run on the pawnshop that
+night.  Saturday night was the real night for business; then work went
+on until far into the small hours of the morning, and Louisa was
+obliged to turn to and help her father, but to-night there was nothing
+to prevent her going to bed.  She lit her candle in the hall, and
+turned to say "good-night" to her parents.
+
+"That's a likely young man wot came here to-night," said the mother.
+
+"What young man?" asked Louisa, her eyes flashing.
+
+"Why, Mr. Sampson; they say he's right well off.  Don't you know who he
+is, Loo?"
+
+"No, that I don't," answered Louisa.  "I never set eyes on him before.
+I thought he was just a friend of Jim Hardy's.  I thought it was Jim
+you spoke of, mother, when you mentioned a likely young man."
+
+"Oh, Jim! he's well enough," said Mrs. Clay.  "I don't go for to deny
+that 'e's handsome to look at, but my thought is this, 'andsome is as
+'andsome does.  Now, that young man Sampson, as you call him, will make
+his fortin' some fine day.  He's in the private detective line, and
+your father says there aint a sharper man in the trade.  A sharp
+detective makes his fortin' in these days, no doubt on that p'int."
+
+Louisa's face slightly lost its color; a puzzled expression, an almost
+frightened look, crept into her eyes.
+
+"So George Sampson is a detective," she said slowly; "a detective, and
+he is a friend of Jim's.  I wonder why he came here?"
+
+"Why he come 'ere!" said the old woman.  "Why do any young men come
+'ere?  Oh, we needn't say why; but we know.  Good-night, child,
+good-night."
+
+"Good-night, mother," said the daughter.
+
+She went upstairs to her own good-sized bedroom, just over the
+pawnshop.  She occupied the best bedroom in the house.  She set her
+candle on her chest of drawers now, and sat down where she could see
+her handsome, striking-looking figure in the looking-glass.  There was
+a long glass in the door of her wardrobe, and there she could see her
+reflection from head to foot.  The red dress suited her well; it
+accentuated the carmine in her cheeks, and brought out the brilliancy
+of her eyes.  She pushed back her mass of black hair from her low brow,
+and gazed hard at her own image.
+
+"Yes," she said to herself, "I am handsome.  Ef I were a lady I'd be a
+queen.  I'm handsome enough for anythink.  But what do it matter!  Good
+Lor', what do _anythink_ matter when you can't get what you are
+breaking your heart for!  I'd give all the world for Jim, and Jim don't
+care nothink for me."
+
+She sighed heavily.  Presently she drew herself upright, pushed her
+chair back so that she could no longer see her image in the glass,
+placed her two elbows on the table, pressed her cheeks down on her open
+palms, and thought hard.
+
+"Why did that man, George Sampson, come here to-night?" she said to
+herself.  "Did Jim bring him knowing that he is a detective; did he
+bring him because he suspects me?  Oh, he couldn't suspect me; Jim aint
+that mean sort.  Still, I don't like Sampson; I don't like his coming
+'ere; I don't like the way he fixes me with his ferret eyes.  Jim is
+mad about Alison.  He can't suspect me, of course; but he is mad about
+it all.  He is half broken-hearted, and he thinks less of me than ever.
+Oh, Jim, Jim! and I do love you so terrible bad.  Why don't you love me
+even a little bit back again?  I'd be good ef you loved me; I know I'd
+be good.  What is there in Alison Reed for you nearly to die for her?
+She aint got my looks, she aint got my eyes, she aint got my bit of
+money.  I'm handsome, and I know it, and I'll have a tidy lot of money
+when I'm married, for father tells me so.  What is Alison compared to
+me?  Oh, nothing, nothing at all!  just a mealy-faced, white-cheeked
+slip of a girl.  But somehow or other he loves her, and he don't love
+me a bit; I'd do anything under the sun to win him.  Why to-day, to-day
+I did a _crime_, and 'twas for him, 'twas to win him; and, after all, I
+failed.  Oh, yes, I saw it to-night, I failed horribly."
+
+Louisa pressed her hands to her aching eyes; tears rose and smarted her
+eyelids; they rolled down her cheeks.
+
+"I'm fit to kill myself!" she cried.  "I did a crime for Jim, and I
+dragged a girl into it, and I failed.  Yes, I'll be straight with
+myself, I did it for him.  Oh, God knows what I've suffered lately, the
+mad fire and the pain that has been eating me here," she pressed her
+hand to her breast; "and then to-day I was passing the desk and I saw
+the note, not in the till, but lying on the floor, and no one saw me,
+and it flashed on me that perhaps Alison would be accused, and anyhow
+that the money would come in handy.  Shaw thought he put the note into
+the till, but he never did.  It fell on the floor, and 'twas open, and
+I picked it up.  I have it now; no one saw me, for I did it all like a
+flash.  The whole temptation come to me like a flash, and I took the
+money in a twinkling.  And now Alison is accused, and I am the real
+thief.  I did it--yes, I know why I did it: to turn Jim agen Alison, so
+that I might have a chance to win him for myself.  Yes, I have got the
+money.  I'll jest have a look at it now."
+
+Louisa rose as she spoke; she took a key from her pocket, opened a
+small drawer in her wardrobe, and extracted from an old-fashioned purse
+a crumpled five-pound note.  She stared at this innocent piece of paper
+with big, wide-open black eyes.
+
+"I wish I'd never touched it," she said, speaking her thoughts out
+loud.  "But of course Jim couldn't suspect me.  Not a soul saw me when
+I jest stooped and put the paper in my pocket.  No, not a living soul
+saw me.  Shaw had gone away, and Alison was serving a customer, and I
+did it like a flash.  I had a fine time when they accused Alison, and
+she turned first white and then red; but I didn't like it when I saw
+Jim shiver.  Why did he take that vow that he would marry nobody but
+her?  See ef I don't make him break it!  I haven't got my looks for
+nothink, and I don't love, as I love Jim, for nothink.  Yes; I'll win
+him yet--I have made up my mind.  I think I know a way of blinding that
+detective's eyes.  I'll jest let him think that I like him--that I'm
+losing my heart to him.  _That 'll_ fetch him!  He aint married; I know
+he aint, from the way he spoke.  I can soon turn a feller like that
+round my little finger.  Trust _me_ to blind his eyes.  As to Jim! oh,
+Jim, you _can't_ guess wot I done; it aint in you to think meanly of a
+gel.  Why, Jim, I could even be _good_ for a man like you; but there!
+now that I have done this thing I can't be good, so there is nothink
+for me but to go on being as bad as possible; only some day--some day,
+if I win yer, perhaps I'll tell yer all.  No, no; what am I saying?  Of
+course you must never know.  You'd hate me if I were fifty times yer
+wife, ef yer knew the bitter, bitter truth.  Alison is nothing at all
+to me; I don't care whether she breaks her heart or not, but I do care
+about Jim.  It is Jim I want.  I'd make him a right good wife, for I
+love him so well--yes, I will get him yet--I vow it; and perhaps my
+vow, being a woman's, may be stronger than his."
+
+Louisa undressed slowly and got into bed.  Her conscience was too hard
+to trouble her; but the thought of Jim and his despair stood for some
+time between her and sleep.  She was tired out, for the day had been
+full of excitement, but it was quite into the small hours before her
+tired eyes were closed in heavy slumber.
+
+Not far away, in a small flat in Sparrow Street, another girl slept
+also.  This girl had cried herself to sleep; the tears were even still
+wet upon her eyelashes.  Grannie had come into the room and looked at
+Alison.  Alison and Polly slept together in the tiniest little offshoot
+of the kitchen--it was more a sort of lean-to than a room; the roof
+sloped so much that by the window, and where the little dressing-table
+stood, only a very small person could keep upright.  Grannie belonged
+to the very small order of women.  She always held herself upright as a
+dart, and though it was late now, she did not show any signs of fatigue
+as she stood with a shaded candle looking down at the sleeping girl.
+Alison's face was very pale; once or twice she sighed heavily.  As
+Grannie watched her she raised her arm, pushed back her hair, which lay
+against her cheek, turned round, sighed more deeply than ever, and then
+sank again into unbroken slumber.
+
+"She's dreaming of it all," thought the old woman.  "I wonder if Jim,
+bless him, will clear her.  I know he'll do his best.  I believe he's a
+good lad.  I wish Alison would get engaged to him right away.  Jim's
+doing well in the shop, and they might be married and--dear, dear, I
+_wish_ my hand didn't ache so bad.  Well, there's one good thing about
+it anyway--I needn't waste time in bed, for sleep one wink with this
+sort of burning pain I couldn't, so I may jest as well set up and put
+that feather-stitching straight.  It's certain true that there aint a
+single thing in the world what hasn't some good p'int about it, and
+here is the good p'int in this pain of mine: I needn't waste the hours
+of darkness laying and doing nothink in bed."
+
+Grannie stole out of the room as softly as she had entered.  She shut
+the door behind her without making the least sound; she then lit a
+little lamp, which was much cheaper than gas, saw that it burned trim
+and bright, and set it on the center-table in the kitchen.  The night
+was bitterly cold; the fog had been followed by a heavy frost.  Grannie
+could hear the sharp ringing sound of some horses' feet as they passed
+by, carrying their burdens to the different markets.  It was long past
+twelve o'clock.  The little kitchen was warm, for the stove had burned
+merrily all day.  Grannie opened the door of the stove now and looked
+in.
+
+"Shall I, or shall I not, put on an extry shovelful of coals?" she said
+to herself; "an extry shovelful will keep the heat in all night; I have
+a mind to, for I do perish awful when the heat goes out of the kitchen;
+but there, it would be sinful waste, for coals are hard to get.  Ef
+that doctor were right, and it were really writers' cramp, I mightn't
+be able to earn any more money to buy coals; but of course he aint
+right; how silly of me to be afraid of what's impossible!  Yes, I'll
+put on the coals.  Thank the good Lord, this feather-stitching means a
+real good income to us; and now that Ally can't bring in her eight
+shillings a week, I must work extry hard, but it's false savin' to
+perish of cold when you have it in you to earn good money, so here
+goes."
+
+Grannie filled a very tiny shovel, flung the precious coals into the
+opening of the stove, shut it up again, and, taking the cambric from
+the cupboard in the wall, sat down with needle and thread just where
+the full light of the lamp could best fall on her work.  Her right hand
+ached and ached--it not only ached, but burned; the pain seemed to go
+up her arm; it sometimes gave her a sort of sick feeling.
+
+"Of course it's rheumatis," she said to herself.  "Well now, what a
+silly I am!  Why don't I try the liniment?  There, I'll rub some on
+afore I begin to work."
+
+She took the bottle from the mantelpiece, opened it, and poured a
+little of the mixture into the palm of her left hand.  The liniment was
+hot and comforting; it smarted a little, and relieved the dull inside
+pain.  Grannie found herself able to move her thumb and forefinger
+without much difficulty.
+
+"There!" she said; "it's stiffening of the j'ints I'm getting.  This
+liniment is fine stuff.  I must be very careful of it, though; why, I'm
+a sight better already.  Now then, first to wash my 'ands, and then to
+unpick the feather-stitching poor Ally did to-day.  Poor darlin', she
+couldn't be expected to do it proper, but I'll soon set it right."
+
+Mrs. Reed poured some warm water from the tap into the basin beneath,
+washed her old hands very carefully, dried them well, and sat down in
+quite a cheerful mood in her warm, snug, bright little kitchen to
+unpick Alison's work.  The liniment had really eased the pain.  She was
+able to grasp without any discomfort the very finely pointed scissors
+she was obliged to use, and after an hour and a half of intricate
+labor, during which she strained her old eyes in order to avoid cutting
+the delicate cambric, she had at last undone the mischief which Alison
+had caused that day.
+
+"Now then, here we are, as straight as possible," she said aloud, in
+her cheery way.  "It's wonderful how fresh I do feel, and this hand's a
+sight better.  I declare it's a sort of Providence that the old don't
+want much sleep--why, the church clock has gone two, and I aint a bit
+drowsy.  I know what I'll do, I'll work till five, that's three hours;
+then I'll go to bed till seven.  My hand's so comfortable that I'm sure
+to sleep like a top, and seven is time enough for me to rise.  Two
+hours aint such a bad lot of sleep for a woman of my years.  Let's see,
+I'm sixty-eight.  In one sense sixty-eight is old, in another sense
+it's young.  You slack down at sixty-eight; you don't have such a draw
+on your system, the fire inside you don't seem to require such poking
+up and feeding.  When you get real old, seventy-eight or eighty, then
+you want a deal of cosseting; but sixty-eight is young in one sense of
+the word.  This is the slack time--this is the time when you live real
+cheap.  What a deal of mercies I have, to be sure; and them beautiful
+grandchildren, so fat and hearty, and Alison and me to keep the house
+so snug, and tight, and neat, and not a debt in the world.  Now, then,
+I expect I'll get a lot of work through in these three hours.  I can
+set up for the next few nights, till Ally gets her place back again,
+and make up all the difference, and more, that her eight shillings a
+week brings in.  Oh, thank the Lord, it's wonderful fortinit that I've
+come to the easy time of life.  If I were younger now, I must have my
+sleep; but at sixty-eight you, so to speak, slacks down your fire, and
+_werry_ little keeps it goin'."
+
+As Grannie thought these last vigorous and contented thoughts, she
+pulled the lamp nearer, seized her needle and thread, and commenced her
+feather-stitching.  For the first quarter of an hour or twenty minutes
+the work went well--the mysterious twists, and turns, and darts, and
+loops were all made with fidelity and exactitude--the lovely crinkled
+ornament stood out boldly on the delicate cambric.  Grannie looked at
+her work with intense pride and happiness.
+
+"It's a fortin'--I do wish that gel would learn it.  Why, ef the two of
+us were at it, she'd make a sight more than she do in the shop.  I
+declare I'll give her a lesson to-morrow----  Oh, my God! what's that?
+Oh, my God, help me!"
+
+The needle fell through her powerless fingers; the finger and thumb
+were drawn apart, as though they had not the power to get together
+again.  Grannie gazed at her right hand in a sort of panic.
+
+"There; it has happened once or twice afore," she said to
+herself--"that dreadful prick and stab, and then all the power goin'
+sudden-like--of course it's rheumatis--there, I've no cause to be
+frightened; it's passing off; only it do make me sick and faint.  I'll
+have a cup of tea and then another rub of the liniment."
+
+The great agony frightened her very much; it took some of her high
+spirits away.  She rose slowly, and made her tea, drank it off scalding
+hot, and then rubbed some more liniment on the hand.  It was not quite
+so comforting nor quite so warming this time as it was on the former
+occasion.  She washed her hands again, and set to work.
+
+"Oh, good Lord, give me strength!" she murmured, as she seized her
+needle and thread.  "Think of all the children, Lord, and the little
+ones so fat and well fed; remember me, good Lord, and take the
+rheumatis away, _ef_ it's your good will."
+
+She took up her needle with renewed courage, and once more began to
+perform those curious movements of wrist and hand which were necessary
+to produce the feather-stitching.  In ten minutes the pain returned,
+the powerless finger and thumb refused to grasp the needle.  Large
+drops of sweat stood out now on Grannie's forehead.
+
+"Wot do it mean?" she said to herself.  "I never heerd tell of
+rheumatis like this, and for certain it aint writers' cramp, for I
+never write.  Oh, what an awful sort of thing writing is, when a letter
+once in six months knocks you over in this way.  Dear, dear, I'm
+a-shaking, but I 'a' done a nice little bit, and it's past three
+o'clock.  I'll go to bed.  The doctor spoke a deal about rest; I didn't
+mind him much.  He was all wrong about the pain, but perhaps he were
+right about the rest, so I'll go straight to bed."
+
+Grannie carefully slacked down the fire, put out the lamp, and stole
+into the little bedroom which she shared with the two younger children.
+Harry and David were already asleep in the lean-to at the other side of
+the kitchen, the opposite room to Alison's.  The well-fed children in
+Grannie's bed breathed softly in their happy slumbers; the little old
+woman got in between them and lay down icy cold, and trembling a good
+deal.  The children slept on, but the little woman lay awake with her
+wide-open eyes staring straight into the darkness, and the dreadful
+pain in hand and arm banishing all possibility of slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+In the morning Grannie got up as usual.  She was very white and shaky,
+but she had no intention of complaining.  The pain from which she was
+suffering had somewhat abated, but the poor hand and arm felt tired and
+very feeble.  She longed for the comfort of a sling, but decided not to
+wear one; the children would all notice it and pass remarks, and
+Grannie could not bear to be commented upon.  She did not want to add
+trouble to trouble just now.  She resolved to forget herself in
+thoughts of Alison and the others.  She was early in the kitchen, but
+to her relief and pleasure found David there before her.  Next to
+Alison, David was Grannie's favorite.  He was thoughtful and
+considerate.  He was a great big manly fellow, but there was also a
+very sweet feminine element in him; he could be domestic without being
+in the least girlish.  He was devoted to Grannie, and often, tired as
+he was when he went to bed, got up early in the morning to save her
+work.  He had turned on the gas, and the first thing he noticed now,
+when she came in, was her worn, puckered little face.
+
+"Why, Grannie, you are out of sorts," he said.  "Why did you get up so
+early?  Surely Ally and me can manage the bit of work.  But, I say, you
+are all of a tremble.  Set down, and I'll get ye a cup of tea in a
+minute."
+
+"No, Dave, no!" said the old woman, "'twill soon pass--'twill soon
+pass; the rheumatis in my hand and arm has been bothering me all night,
+and it makes me a bit shaky; but 'twill soon pass, Dave.  We mustn't
+waste the tea, you know, lad; and I won't have a cup--no, I won't."
+
+"Well, set there and rest," said the young man.  "Thank goodness, I
+aint ashamed to work, and I'm real proud to put the kitchen straight
+and tidy.  See how bright the fire is already; you warm your toes,
+Grannie, and you'll soon be better."
+
+"So I will, to be sure," said Mrs. Reed, rubbing her hands and sinking
+into the chair which David had brought forward.
+
+She gazed into the cheery flames, with her own bright-blue eyes, clear
+and steady.  Then she looked straight up at David, who was in the act
+of filling the kettle and placing it on the top of the stove.
+
+"David," she said, "stoop down a minute; I have a word or two to say."
+
+David dropped on his knees at once, and put his hand on Grannie's
+shoulder.
+
+"You aint likely to have a rise in your wages soon, are you, Dave?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I am! arter a bit," he answered.  "Mr. Groves is real pleased
+with me.  He says I am a steady lad, and he often sets me to cast up
+accounts for him, and do little odds and ends of jobs.  He says he has
+always railed against the School Board, but sometimes, when he sees how
+tidy I can write, and how well I can read and spell, he's inclined to
+change his mind."
+
+"And what rise will he give?" said Grannie, whose mind was entirely
+fixed on the money part of the question.
+
+"Well, maybe a shilling more a week, when the first year is out."
+
+"And that 'll be----"
+
+"Next March, Grannie; not so long coming round."
+
+"Yes," she replied, "yes."  In spite of herself, her voice had a sad
+note in it.  "Well, you see, Dave, you can't keep yourself on half a
+crown a week."
+
+"I wish I could," he answered, looking dispirited, "but I thought you
+were content.  Is there anything that worries you, old lady?"
+
+"No, that there aint, my brave boy.  You stick to your work and please
+your master; you're safe to get on."
+
+"I wish I could support myself," said David.  "I wish I knew shorthand;
+that's the thing.  A lad who knows shorthand, and can write and spell
+as well as I can, can earn his ten shillings a week easy."
+
+"Ten shillings a week," said Grannie.  "Lor' save us, what a power of
+money!"
+
+"It's true," said David; "there's a lad who was at school with me--his
+name was Phil Martin--he managed to pick up shorthand, and he's earning
+ten shillings a week now.  He's a bit younger than I am, too.  He won't
+be fifteen for two months yet."
+
+"Shorthand?" said Grannie, in her reflective voice; "that's writing,
+aint it?"
+
+"Why, to be sure, Grannie; only a different sort of writing."
+
+"Still, you call it writing, don't you?"
+
+"To be sure I do."
+
+"Then, for the Lord's sake, don't have anythink to do with it, David.
+Ef there is a mischievous, awful thing in the world, it's handwriting.
+I only do it twice a year, and it has finished me, my lad--it has
+finished me out and out.  No, don't talk of it--keep your half a crown
+a week, and don't be tempted with no handwriting, short or long."
+
+David looked puzzled and distressed; Grannie's words did not amuse him
+in the least--they were spoken with great passion, with a rising color
+in the little old cheeks, and a flash of almost fever in the bright
+eyes.  Grannie had always been the perfect embodiment of health and
+strength to all the grandchildren, and David did not understand her
+this morning.
+
+"Still," he said, "I can't agree with you about shorthand; it's a grand
+thing--it's a trade in itself; but there's no chance of my getting to
+know it, for I aint got the money.  Now, hadn't I better get breakfast?
+Ally will be out in a minute."
+
+"No, no; there's time enough.  Look here, Dave, Harry must leave school
+altogether--he's old enough, and he has passed the standard.  He must
+earn somethink.  Couldn't he go as one of them messenger boys?"
+
+"Perhaps so, Grannie; but why are you in such a hurry?  Harry's really
+clever; he's got more brains than any of us, and he earns a shilling or
+so a week now in the evenings helping me with the figures at Mr.
+Groves'."
+
+"Do you think Mr. Groves would take him on altogether, Dave?"
+
+"No, he'd do better as a messenger boy--but don't hurry about him
+leaving school.  He'd best stay until midsummer, then he'll be fit for
+anything."
+
+"Midsummer," said the old woman to herself, "midsummer!  Oh, good Lord!"
+
+She bent her head down to prevent David seeing the tears which suddenly
+softened her brave eyes.
+
+"What's all this fuss about Alison?" said David suddenly.
+
+At these words Grannie rose to her feet.
+
+"Nothing," she said, "nothing--it's nothing more than what I'd call a
+storm in a tea-cup.  They have lost a five-pound note at Shaw's and
+they choose, the Lord knows why, to put the blame on our Ally.  Of
+course they'll find the note, and Ally will be cleared."
+
+"It seems a pity she left the shop," said David.
+
+"Pity!" said Mrs. Reed.  "You don't suppose that Ally is a Phipps and a
+Reed for nothink.  We 'old our heads high, and we'll go on doing so.
+Why, Dave, they think a sight of Alison in that shop.  Mr. Shaw knows
+what she's worth; he don't believe she's a thief, bless her!
+Yesterday, when I went to see him, he spoke of her as genteel as you
+please, and he wanted her back again."
+
+"Then why, in the name of goodness, doesn't she go?" said David.
+
+"Being a Phipps and Reed, she couldn't," replied Grannie.  "We, none of
+us, can humble ourselves--'taint in us--the breed won't allow it.  Ally
+was to say she was sorry for having done nothing at all, and, being a
+Phipps and a Reed, it wasn't to be done.  Don't talk any more about it,
+lad.  Shaw will be going on his knees to have her back in a day or two;
+but I have a thought in my head that she may do better even than in the
+shop.  There, you've comforted me, my boy--you are a real out-and-out
+comfort to me, David."
+
+"I am glad of that," said the young fellow.  "There's no one like you
+to me--no one."
+
+He kissed her withered cheek, which was scarcely like an apple this
+morning, being very pale and weary.
+
+"Grannie," he said, "is it true that Ally is going to marry Jim Hardy?"
+
+"It's true that Jim Hardy wants her to marry him," replied Grannie.
+
+"I wonder if he does?" replied David, in a thoughtful voice.  "They say
+that Clay's daughter is mad for Jim, and she'll have a tidy sight of
+money."
+
+"She may be as mad as she pleases, but she won't get Jim.  Now, do
+hurry on with the breakfast.  What a lad you are for chattering!"
+
+Poor David, who had certainly been induced to chatter by Grannie
+herself, made no response, but rose and set about his work as
+kitchen-maid and cook with much deftness.  He stirred the oatmeal into
+the pot of boiling water, made the porridge, set the huge smoking dish
+on the center of the table, put the children's mugs round, laid a
+trencher of brown bread and a tiny morsel of butter on the board, and
+then, having seen that Grannie's teapot held an extra pinch of tea, he
+poured boiling water on it, and announced the meal as ready.  The
+younger children now came trooping in, neat and tidy and ready for
+school.  Grannie had trained her little family to be very orderly.  As
+the children entered the room they came up to her one by one, and
+bestowed a kiss on her old lips.  Her salutation to them was always
+simple and always the same: "Bless you, Polly; bless you, Susie; bless
+you, Kitty."  But immediately after the blessing came sharp, quick
+words.
+
+"Now, no dawdling; set down and be quick about it--sup up your porridge
+without letting a drop of it get on your clean pinafores, or I'll smack
+you."
+
+Grannie never did smack the children, so this last remark of hers had
+long fallen flat.  Alison came in almost immediately after the
+children, and then, after a longer interval, Harry, looking red and
+sleepy, took his place by the table.  Harry was undoubtedly the black
+sheep of the family.  Both Alison and David bestowed on him one or two
+anxious glances, but Grannie was too absorbed in some other thought to
+take much notice of him this morning.  Immediately after breakfast the
+children knelt down, and Grannie repeated the Lord's Prayer aloud.
+Then came a great scampering and rushing about.
+
+"Good-by, Grannie--good-by, Ally," came from several pairs of lips.
+
+Then a clatter downstairs, then a silence--even David had gone away.
+On ordinary occasions Alison would have departed quite an hour before
+the children, as she always had to be at the shop in good time to
+display her excellent taste in the dressing of the windows.  To-day she
+and Grannie were left behind together.
+
+"You don't look well, Grannie," began the young girl.
+
+"Now, listen, Alison," said Mrs. Reed, speaking in quite a tart voice,
+"ef you want to really vex me, you'll talk of my looks.  I'm at the
+slack time o' life, and a little more color or a little less don't
+matter in the least.  Ef I were forty and looked pale, or eighty and
+looked pale, it might be a subject to worry 'em as love me; being
+sixty-eight, I have let off pressure, so to speak, and it don't matter,
+not one little bit, whether I'm like a fresh apple or a piece o' dough.
+I am goin' out marketing now, and when I come back I'll give you a
+fresh lesson in that feather-stitching."
+
+A dismayed look crept into Alison's face; she raised her delicate brows
+very slightly, and fixed her clear blue eyes on Grannie.  She was about
+to speak, but something in the expression on Grannie's face kept her
+silent.
+
+"You clear up and have the place tidy against I come back," said the
+little woman.  "You might make the beds, and set everything in
+apple-pie order, ef you've a mind to."
+
+She then walked into her little bedroom, and shut the door behind her.
+In three minutes she was dressed to go out, not in the neat drawn
+black-silk bonnet, but in an old straw one which had belonged to her
+mother, and which was extremely obsolete in pattern.  This bonnet had
+once been white, but it was now of the deepest, most dingy shade of
+yellow-brown.  It had a little band of brown ribbon round it, which
+ended neatly in a pair of strings; these were tied under Grannie's
+chin.  Instead of her black cashmere shawl she wore one of very rough
+material and texture, and of a sort of zebra pattern, which she had
+picked up cheap many and many years ago from a traveling peddler.  She
+wore no gloves on her hands, but the poor, swollen, painful right hand
+was wrapped in a corner of the zebra shawl.  On her left arm she
+carried her market basket.
+
+"Good-by, child," she said, nodding to her granddaughter.  Then she
+trotted downstairs and out into the street.
+
+There was no fog to-day--the air was keen and bright, and there was
+even a very faint attempt at some watery sunbeams.  There wasn't a
+better bargainer in all Shoreditch than Mrs. Reed, but to-day her
+purchases were very small--a couple of Spanish onions, half a pound of
+American cheese, some bread, a tiny portion of margarine--and she had
+expended what money she thought proper.
+
+She was soon at home again, and dinner was arranged.
+
+"I may as well get the dinner," said Alison, rising and taking the
+basket from the old woman.
+
+"My dear, there aint nothing to get; it's all ready.  The children must
+have bread for dinner to-day.  I bought a stale quartern loaf--I got a
+penny off it, being two days old; here's a nice piece of cheese; and
+onions cut up small will make a fine relish.  There, we'll put the
+basket in the scullery; and now, Alison, come over to the light and
+take a lesson in the feather-stitching."
+
+Alison followed Mrs. Reed without a word.  They both took their places
+near the window.
+
+"Thread that needle for me, child," said the old woman.
+
+Alison obeyed.  Mrs. Reed had splendid sight for her age; nothing had
+ever ailed her eyes, and she never condescended to wear glasses, old as
+she was, except by lamplight.  Alison therefore felt some surprise when
+she was invited to thread the needle.  She did so in gloomy and solemn
+silence, and gave it back with a suppressed sigh to her grandmother.
+
+"I don't think there's much use, Grannie," she said.
+
+"Much use in wot?" said Mrs. Reed.
+
+"In my learning that feather-stitching--I haven't it in me.  I hate
+needlework."
+
+"Oh, Ally!"
+
+Grannie raised her two earnest eyes.
+
+"All women have needlework in 'em if they please," she said; "it's born
+in 'em.  You can no more be a woman without needlework than you can be
+a man without mischief--it's born in you, child, the same as bed-making
+is, and cleaning stoves, and washing floors, and minding babies, and
+coddling husbands, and bearing all the smaller worries of life--they
+are all born in a woman, Alison, and she can no more escape 'em than
+she can escape wearing the wedding-ring when she goes to church to be
+wed."
+
+"Oh, the wedding-ring! that's different," said Alison, looking at her
+pretty slender finger as she spoke.  "Oh, Grannie, dear Grannie, my
+heart's that heavy I think it 'll break!  I can't see the
+feather-stitching, I can't really."  Her eyes brimmed up with tears.
+"Grannie, don't ask me to do the fine needlework to-day."
+
+Grannie's face turned pale.
+
+"I wouldn't ef I could help it," she said.  "Jest to please me,
+darling, take a little lesson; you will be glad bimeby, you really
+will.  Why, this stitch is in the family, and it 'ud be 'a burning
+shame for it to go out.  Dear, dearie me, Alison, it aint a small thing
+that could make me cry, but I'd cry ef this beautiful stitch, wot come
+down from the Simpsons to the Phippses, and from the Phippses to the
+Reeds, is lost.  You must learn it ef you want to keep me cheerful,
+Ally dear."
+
+"But I thought I knew it, Grannie," said the girl.
+
+"Not to say perfect, love--the loop don't go right with you, and the
+loop's the p'int.  Ef you don't draw that loop up clever and tight, you
+don't get the quilting, and the quilting's the feature that none of the
+workwomen in West London can master.  Now, see yere, look at me.  I'll
+do a bit, and you watch."
+
+Grannie took up the morsel of cambric; she began the curious movements
+of the wrist and hand, the intricate, involved contortions of the
+thread.  The magic loop made its appearance; the quilting stood out in
+richness and majesty on the piece of cambric.  Grannie made three or
+four perfect stitches in an incredibly short space of time.  She then
+put the cambric into her granddaughter's hand.
+
+"Now, child," she said, "show me what you can do."
+
+Alison yawned slightly, and took up the work without any enthusiasm.
+She made the first correct mystic passage with needle and thread; when
+she came to the loop she failed to go right, and the effect was bungled
+and incomplete.
+
+"Not that way; for mercy's sake, don't twist the thread like that!"
+called Grannie, in an agony.  "Give it to me; I'll show yer."
+
+It seemed like profanation to see her exquisite work tortured and
+murdered.  She snatched the cambric from Alison, and set to work to
+make another perfect stitch herself.  At that moment there came the
+sudden and terrible pain--the shooting agony up the arm, followed by
+the partial paralysis of thumb and forefinger.  Grannie could not help
+uttering a suppressed groan; her face turned white; she felt a passing
+sense of nausea and faintness; the work dropped from her hand; the
+perspiration stood on her forehead.  She looked at Alison with
+wide-open, pitiful eyes.
+
+"Wot is it, Grannie--what is it, darlin'?  For God's sake, wot's
+wrong?" said the girl, going on her knees and putting her arms round
+the little woman.
+
+"It's writers' cramp, honey, writers' cramp, and me that never writes
+but twice a year; it's starvation, darlin'.  Oh, darlin', darlin', it's
+starvation--that's ef you don't learn the stitch."
+
+All of a sudden Grannie's fortitude had given way; she sobbed and
+sobbed--not in the loud, full, strong way of the young and vigorous,
+but with those low, suppressed, deep-drawn sobs of the aged.  All in a
+minute she felt herself quite an old and useless woman--she, who had
+been the mainspring of the household, the breadwinner of the family!
+All of a sudden she had dropped very low.  Alison was full of
+consternation, but she did not understand grief like Grannie's.  She
+was at one end of life, and Grannie was at the other; the old woman
+understood the girl--having past experience to guide her--but the girl
+could not understand the old woman.  It was a relief to Grannie to tell
+out her fear, but Alison did not comprehend it; she was full of pity,
+but she was scarcely full of sympathy.  It seemed impossible for her to
+believe that Grannie's cunning right hand was going to be useless, that
+the beautiful work must stop, that the means of livelihood must cease,
+that the old woman must be turned into a useless, helpless log--no
+longer the mainspring, but a helpless addition to the strained
+household.
+
+Alison could not understand, but she did her best to cheer Grannie up.
+
+"There, there," she said; "of course that doctor was wrong.  In all my
+life I never heard of such a thing as writers' cramp.  Writers'
+cramp!--it's one of the new diseases, Grannie, that doctors are just
+forcing into the world to increase their earnings.  I heard tell in the
+shop, by a girl what knows, that every year doctors push two new
+diseases into fashion, so as to fill their pockets.  But for them, we'd
+never have had influenza, and now it's writers' cramp is to be the
+rage.  Well, let them as writes get it; but you don't write, you know,
+Grannie."
+
+"That's wot I say," replied Grannie, cheering up wonderfully.  "No one
+can get a disease by writing two letters in a year.  I don't suppose it
+is it, at all."
+
+"I'm sure it isn't," said Alison; "but you are just tired out, and must
+rest for a day or two.  It's a good thing that I'm at home, for I can
+rub your hand and arm with that liniment.  You'll see, you'll be all
+right again in a day or two."
+
+"To be sure I will," said Grannie; "twouldn't be like my luck ef I
+warn't."  But all the same she knew in her heart of hearts that she
+would not.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+Both Alison and Mrs. Reed were quite of the opinion that, somehow or
+other, the affair of the five-pound note would soon be cleared up.  The
+more the two women talked over the whole occurrence, the more certain
+they were on that point.  When Grannie questioned her carefully, Alison
+confessed that while she was attending to her two rather troublesome
+customers, it would have been quite within the region of possibility
+for someone to approach the till unperceived.  Of course Alison had
+noticed no one; but that would not have prevented the deed being done.
+
+"The more I think of it, the more certain I am it's that Clay girl,"
+said Grannie.  "Oh, yes, that Clay girl is at the bottom of it.  I'll
+tell Jim so the next time he calls."
+
+"But I don't expect Jim to call--at least at present," said Alison,
+heaving a heavy sigh, and fixing her eyes on the window.
+
+"And why not, my dearie, why shouldn't you have the comfort of seeing
+him?"
+
+"It aint a comfort at present, Grannie; it is more than I can bear.  I
+won't engage myself to Jim until I am cleared, and I love him so much,
+Grannie, and he loves me so much that it is torture to me to see him
+and refuse him; but I am right, aint I?  Do say as I'm right."
+
+"Coming of the blood of the Simpsons, the Phippses and Reeds, you can
+do no different," said Grannie, in a solemn tone.  "You'll be cleared
+werry soon, Alison, for there's a God above, and you are a poor orphin
+girl, and we have his promise that he looks out special for orphins;
+oh, yes, 'twill all come right, and in the meantime you might as well
+take a lesson in the feather-stitching."
+
+But though Grannie spoke with right good faith, and Alison cheered up
+all she could, things did not come right.  The theft was not brought
+home to the wicked Clay girl, as Grannie now invariably called her;
+Shaw did not go on his knees to Alison to return; and one day Jim, who
+did still call at the Reeds' notwithstanding Alison's prohibition,
+brought the gloomy tidings that Shaw was seeing other girls with a view
+to filling up Alison's place in the shop.  This was a dark blow indeed,
+and both Alison and Grannie felt themselves turning very pale, and
+their hearts sinking, when Jim brought them the unpleasant news.
+
+"Set down, Jim Hardy, set down," said Grannie, but her lips trembled
+with passion as she spoke.  "I don't want to see anyone in my house
+that I don't offer a chair to, but I can't think much of your detective
+powers, lad, or you'd have got your own gel cleared long ere this."
+
+"I aint his own girl, and he knows it," said Alison, speaking pertly
+because her heart was so sick.
+
+Jim hardly noticed her sharp words--he was feeling very depressed
+himself--he sank into the chair Grannie had offered him, placed his big
+elbows on his knees, pushed his huge hands through his thick hair, and
+scratched his head in perplexity.
+
+"It's an awful mystery, that it is," he said; "there aint a person in
+the shop as don't fret a bit for Ally--she was so bright and
+genteel-looking; and no one thinks she's done it.  If only, Alison, you
+hadn't gone away so sharp, the whole thing would have blown over by
+now."
+
+"Coming of the blood----" began Grannie; but Alison knew the conclusion
+of that sentence, and interrupted her.
+
+"Bygones is bygones," she said, "and we have got to face the future.
+I'll look out for another post to-day; I'll begin to study the papers,
+and see what can be done.  It aint to be supposed that this will crush
+me out and out, and me so young and strong."
+
+"But you'll have to get a character," said Jim, whose brow had not
+relaxed from the deep frown which it wore.
+
+Alison gave her head another toss.
+
+"I must do my best," she said.  She evidently did not intend to pursue
+the subject further with her lover.
+
+Jim was not at all an unobservant man.  He had seen many signs which
+distressed him, both in Grannie's face and Alison's; he knew also that
+Harry had been taken from school quite a year too soon; he knew well
+that Alison's bread winnings were necessary for the family, and that it
+was impossible to expect an old body like Grannie to feed all those
+hungry mouths much longer.
+
+"Look here," he said, rising suddenly to his feet, "I have got
+something to say."
+
+"Oh, dear, dear, why will you waste our time?" said Alison.
+
+"It aint waste, and you have got to listen--please, Mrs. Reed, don't go
+out of the room; I want you to hear it too.  Now, you look at me,
+Alison Reed.  I am big, aint I, and I'm strong, and I earn good wages,
+right good--for a man as isn't twenty-five yet.  I'm getting close on
+two pounds a week now, and you can see for yourselves that that's a
+good pile."
+
+"Bless us!" said Grannie, "it's a powerful heap of money."
+
+"Well, I'm getting that," said Jim, with a sort of righteous pride on
+his face, "and no one who knows what's what could complain of the same.
+Now, this is what I'm thinking.  I am all alone in the world; I haven't
+kith nor kin belonging to me, only an uncle in Australia, and he don't
+count, as I never set eyes on him.  I'd have never come to London but
+for father and mother dying off sudden when I was but a bit of a lad.
+I'm sort of lonely in the evenings, and I want a wife awful bad."
+
+"Well, there's Louisa Clay, and she's willing," said Alison, who,
+notwithstanding that her heart was almost bursting, could not restrain
+her flippant tone.
+
+Jim gave her a steady look out of his dark gray eyes, but did not
+reply.  She lowered her own eyes then, unable to bear their true and
+faithful glance.
+
+"What I say is this," said Jim, "that I know you, Alison; you aint no
+more a thief than I am.  Why shouldn't you come home to me?  Why
+shouldn't you make me happy--and why shouldn't I help the lads and
+Grannie a bit?  You'd have as snug a home as any girl in London; and
+I'd be proud to work for you.  I wouldn't want you to do any more
+shopwork.  Why should we wait and keep everybody wretched just for a
+bit of false pride?  Why should you not trust me, Ally?  And I love
+you, my dear; I love you faithful and true."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't say any more, Jim," said Alison.
+
+The note in her voice had changed from sharp petulance to a low sort of
+wail.  She sank on a chair, laid her head on the table which stood
+near, and burst into tears.
+
+"Grannie, I wish you would try and persuade her," said the young man.
+
+"I'll talk to her," said Grannie; "it seems reasonable enough.  Two
+pounds a week!  Lor' bless us! why, it's wealth--and ef you love her,
+Jim?"
+
+"Need you ask?" he answered.
+
+"No, I needn't; you're a good lad.  Well, come back again, Jim; go away
+now and come back again.  We'll see you at the end of a week, that we
+will."
+
+Jim rose slowly and unwillingly.  Alison would not look at him.  She
+was sobbing in a broken-hearted way behind her handkerchief.
+
+"I don't see why there should be suspense," he said, as he took up his
+cap.  "It's the right thing to do; everything else is wrong.  And see
+here, Alison, I'll take a couple of the children; they don't cost much,
+I know, and it will be such a help to Grannie."
+
+"To be sure, that it will," said Grannie.  "That offer about the
+children is a p'int to be considered.  You go away, Jim, and come back
+again at the end of a week."
+
+The young man gave a loving glance at Alison's sunny head as it rested
+on the table.  His inclination was to go up to her, take her head
+between his hands, raise the tearful face, kiss the tears away, and, in
+short, take the fortress by storm.  But Grannie's presence prevented
+this, and Alison would not once look up.  The old woman gave him an
+intelligent and hopeful glance, and he was obliged to be content with
+it and hurry off.
+
+"I'll come again next Tuesday to get my answer," he said.
+
+Alison murmured something which he did not hear.  The next instant he
+had left the room.
+
+The moment his footsteps had died away Alison raised her tearful face.
+
+"You had no right to do it, Grannie," she said.  "It was sort of
+encouraging him."
+
+"Dry your tears now, child," said Mrs. Reed.  "We'll talk of this later
+on."
+
+"You said yourself I'd have no proper pride to marry Jim at present,"
+continued the girl.
+
+"We'll talk of this later on," said Grannie; "the children will be home
+in a minute to tea.  After tea you and me will talk it over while they
+are learning their lessons."
+
+Grannie could be very immovable and determined when she liked.  Having
+lived with her all her life, Alison knew her every mood.  She perceived
+now, by her tightly shut up lips, and the little compression, which was
+scarcely a frown, between her brows, that she could get nothing more
+out of her at present.
+
+She prepared the tea, therefore; and when the children came in she cut
+bread and margerine for them, for butter had long ago ceased to appear
+on Grannie's board.
+
+After tea the children went into Grannie's bedroom to learn their
+lessons, and the old woman and the young found themselves alone.  The
+lamp was lit, and the little room looked very cheerful; it was warm and
+snug.  Grannie sat with her hands before her.
+
+"I thought I wouldn't tell you, but I must," she said.  "It's a month
+to-day, aint it, Ally, since you lost your place?"
+
+"Yes, a month exactly," replied Alison.  "It is close on Christmas now,
+Grannie."
+
+"Aye," said the old woman, "aye, and Christmas is a blessed, cheerful
+time.  This is Tuesday; Friday will be Christmas Day.  We must have a
+nice Christmas for the children, and we will too.  We'll all be
+cheerful on Christmas Day.  Jim might as well come, whatever answer you
+give him next week.  He's all alone, poor lad, and he might come and
+join our Christmas dinner."
+
+"But we haven't much money," said Alison.  "We miss what I earned at
+the shop, don't we?"
+
+"We miss it," said Grannie, "yes."
+
+She shut up her lips very tightly.  At this moment quick footsteps were
+heard running up the stairs, and the postman's sharp knock sounded on
+the little door.  Alison went to get the letter.  It was for Grannie,
+from a large West End shop; the name of the shop was written in clear
+characters on the flap of the envelope.
+
+Grannie took it carefully between the thumb and finger of her left
+hand--she used her right hand now only when she could not help it.  No
+one remarked this fact, and she hoped that no one noticed it.  She
+unfastened the flap of the envelope slowly and carefully, and, taking
+the letter out, began to read it.  It was a request from the manager
+that she would call at ten o'clock the following morning to take a
+large order for needlework which was required to be completed in a
+special hurry.  Grannie laid the letter by Alison's side.
+
+Alison read it.  She had been accustomed to such letters coming from
+that firm to Grannie for several years.  Such letters meant many of the
+comforts which money brings; they meant warm fires, and good meals, and
+snug clothes, and rent for the rooms, and many of the other necessaries
+of life.
+
+"Well," said the girl, in a cheery tone, "that's nice.  You have nearly
+finished the last job, haven't you, Grannie?"
+
+"No, I aint," said Grannie, with a sort of gasp in her voice.
+
+"I thought I saw you working at it every day."
+
+"So I have been, and in a sense it is finished and beautiful, I am
+sure; but there aint no feather-stitching.  I can't manage the
+feather-stitching.  I can never featherstitch any more, Alison.  Maybe
+for a short time longer I may go on with plain needlework, but that
+special twist and the catching up of the loop in the quilting part of
+the feather-stitching, it's beyond me, darlin'.  'Taint that I can't
+see how to do it, 'taint that I aint willing, but it's the finger and
+thumb, dearie; they won't meet to do the work proper.  It's all over,
+love, all the money-making part of my work.  It's them letters to
+Australia, love.  Oh, dear! oh, dear!"
+
+Grannie laid her white head down on the table.  It was a very sad sight
+to see it there, a much more pathetic sight than it had been to see
+Alison's golden head in the same position an hour or two ago.  There
+was plenty of hope in Alison's grief, heart-broken as it seemed, but
+there was no hope at all in the old woman's despair.  The last time she
+had given way and spoken of her fears to Alison she had sobbed; but she
+shed no tears now--the situation was too critical.
+
+"_Ef_ you had only learned the stitch," she said to her granddaughter.
+There was a faint shadow of reproach in her tone.  "I can't show it to
+you now; but ef you had only learned it."
+
+"But I do know it," said Alison, in distress.
+
+"Not proper, dear; not as it should be done.  I fear that I can never
+show you now."
+
+"And that is why you want me to marry Jim?" said Alison.  "I wonder at
+you, Grannie--you who have such pride!"
+
+"There are times and seasons," said Grannie, "when pride must give way,
+and it seems to me that we have come to this pass.  I looked at Jim
+when he was talking to-day, and I saw clear--clear as if in a
+vision--that he would never cast up to you those words that you dread.
+If you are never cleared of that theft, Alison, Jim will never call his
+wife a thief.  Jim is good to the heart's core, and he is powerful
+rich, and ef you don't marry him, my gel, you'll soon be starving, for
+I can't do the feather-stitching.  I can't honestly do the work.  I'll
+go and see the manager to-morrow morning; but it's all up with me,
+child.  You ought to marry Jim, dear, and you ought to provide a home
+for the two little ones--for Polly and little Kitty."
+
+"And what's to become of you, Grannie, and Dave, and Harry, and Annie?"
+
+"Maybe Jim would take Annie too, now that he is so rich."
+
+"Do you think it would be right to ask him?"
+
+"No, I don't; no, I don't.  Well, anyhow, it is good to have half the
+fam'ly put straight.  You will think of it, Ally, you will think of it;
+you've got a whole week to think of it in."
+
+"I will think of it," said Alison, in a grave voice.
+
+She got up presently; she was feeling very restless and excited.
+
+"I think I'll go out for a bit," she said.
+
+"Do, child, do; it will bring a bit of color into your cheeks."
+
+"Is there anything I can get for you, Grannie--anything for Christmas?
+You said we were to be happy till after Christmas."
+
+"So we will; I have made up my mind firm on that p'int.  We'll have a
+right good Christmas.  There's three pounds in my purse.  We'll spend
+five shillings for Christmas Day.  That ought to give us a powerful lot
+o' good food.  Oh, yes, we'll manage for Christmas."
+
+"This is Tuesday," said Alison, "and Christmas Day comes Friday.  Shall
+I get any of the things to-night, Grannie?"
+
+Grannie looked up at the tall girl who stood by her side.  She saw the
+restless, agitated expression on the young face.
+
+"She'll like to have the feel of money in her hands again," thought the
+little woman.  "I'll trust her with a shillin'.  Lor', I hope she'll be
+careful with it.  Twelve pennies can do a mint ef they're spent
+careful."
+
+She went slowly to her cupboard, took her keys out of her pocket,
+unlocked it with her left hand, and, taking her little purse from a
+secret receptacle at the back of the cupboard, produced a shilling from
+her hoard.
+
+"There," she said, "for the Lord's sake don't drop it; put it safe in
+your pocket.  You might get the raisins for the puddin' and the sugar
+and the flour out o' this.  You choose from the bargain counter, and
+use your eyes, and don't buy raisins what have got no fruit in 'em.
+Sometimes at bargain counters they are all skin, and good for nothink;
+but ef you are sharp you can sometimes pick up right good fruity fruit,
+and that's the sort we want.  Now, don't be long away.  Yes, for sure,
+we may as well have the stuff for the puddin' in the house."
+
+Alison promised to be careful.  She put on her neat black hat and
+jacket and went out.  She had scarcely gone a hundred yards before she
+came straight up against Louisa Clay.  Louisa looked very stylish in a
+large mauve-colored felt hat, and a fur boa round her neck; her black
+hair was much befrizzed and becurled.  Alison shrank from the sight of
+her, and was about to go quickly by when the other girl drew up
+abruptly.
+
+"Why, there you are," she said; "I was jest thinking of coming round to
+see yer."
+
+Alison stood still when she was addressed, but she did not make any
+remark.  Her intention was to go on as soon as ever Louisa had finished
+speaking.  Louisa's own intention was quite different.
+
+"Well, I am glad," she continued.  "I have a lot of things to say.  Do
+you know your place is filled up?"
+
+"Yes," said Alison, flushing.  "Jim told me."
+
+"Jim!" repeated Louisa, with a note of scorn.  "Don't you think you are
+very free and easy with Mr. Hardy?  And when did you see him?" she
+added, a jealous light coming into her eyes.
+
+"He was at our house this afternoon.  I must say good-evening now,
+Louisa.  I am in a hurry; I am doing some errands for Grannie."
+
+"Oh, I don't mind walking a bit o' the way with you.  You are going
+shopping, is it?"
+
+"Well, yes; Christmas is near, you know."
+
+Alison felt herself shrinking more and more from Louisa.  She hated her
+to walk by her side.  It irritated her beyond words to hear her speak
+of Jim.  She dreaded more than she could tell Louisa finding out how
+poor they were; nothing would induce her to get the bargain raisins or
+any of the other cheap things in her presence.
+
+"I am rather in a hurry," she said; "perhaps you won't care to go so
+fast."
+
+"As it happens, I have nothing special to do.  I'll go with you now, or
+I'll call in by and by and have a chat.  I don't know that old Grannie
+of yours, but folks say she's quite a character.  Jim said so last
+night when he was supping at our house."
+
+"I am sure he didn't," muttered Alison under her breath angrily; but
+she refrained from making any comment aloud.
+
+"Well," said Louisa, "you'd like to know what sort of girl is coming to
+Shaw's to take up your work?"
+
+"I don't think I would," replied Alison; "I am really not interested."
+
+"I wonder you care to tell such lies, Alison Reed!  Anyone can tell by
+your face that you are just burning with curiosity and jealousy."
+
+"You mustn't say such things to me," said Alison; "if you do, I won't
+walk with you."
+
+"Oh, my word, how grand we are!" said the other girl; "how high and
+mighty, and all the rest of it!  To be sure, Alison, you were a flat to
+run off the way you did that day.  There is not a person in the shop
+that don't think you guilty, and small blame to 'em, I say.  Poor Jim
+did fret a bit the first day or two, but I think he's pretty happy now;
+he comes to our house constant.  He's very fine company is Jim, he
+sings so well; and did you know he had a turn for acting?  We're
+getting up a little play for Christmas Eve, and Jim's to be the hero;
+I'm the heroine.  My word! it's as pretty a bit of love-making as you'd
+often see.  I tell you what it is, Alison; I'll give you an invitation.
+You shall come and see it; you will now, won't you?  I'll think you're
+devoured with jealousy if you don't.  You will; say you will."
+
+Alison paused for a moment--a sort of inward rage consumed her.  How
+dared Jim profess such love for her, and yet give up so much of his
+time to Louisa--how dared he make love to her even in play!  A sudden
+fierce resolve came into her heart.  Yes, she would see the acting--she
+would judge for herself.  Christmas Eve, that was Thursday
+night--Thursday was a good way off from Tuesday, the day when she was
+to give Jim her answer.  As she walked now by Louisa's side, she
+guessed what her answer would be--she would be careful and
+cautious--oh, yes, she would see for herself.
+
+"I will come," she said suddenly, and to Louisa's great surprise--"I
+will come, if you promise me one thing."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Don't tell Jim Hardy--don't say anything about it.  When he sees me
+he'll know, but don't tell him beforehand."
+
+Louisa burst into a loud, scathing laugh.
+
+"To hear you speak, Alison," she said, "one would think that you were
+somebody of consequence to Mr. Hardy.  Oh, dear--oh, dear, the conceit
+of some folks!  Do you suppose it would make any _difference_ to him
+whether you came or not?  But take my word for it, I won't tell him."
+
+"Thank you," said Alison.  "Yes, I'll be there.  What time shall I
+come?"
+
+"The acting begins at nine o'clock, but there's supper first at eight;
+you had best come to supper.  I will put you in a corner where you
+can't get even a sight of Jim's face, then you'll be easy and happy in
+your mind."
+
+"No, I won't come to supper, but I'll come in time for the acting.  I
+am very much obliged, I am sure."
+
+Louisa gave vent to a great yawn.
+
+"Seems to me," she said, "that you aint up to much shopping; you
+haven't gone into one shop yet."
+
+"No more I have," said Alison.  "I have changed my mind; I won't buy
+the things I meant to to-night.  I'll go home now; so I'll say
+good-evening."
+
+"Good-evening," said Louisa, accompanying her words with a sweeping
+courtesy which she considered full of style and grace.
+
+She went home chuckling to herself.
+
+"I guess that acting will finish up Alison's love affair," she thought.
+"It won't be any fault of mine if it doesn't.  Oh, good-evening, Mr.
+Sampson."
+
+George Sampson, who had been looking out for Louisa, now joined her,
+and the two walked back to the pawnshop arm in arm, and talking very
+confidentially together, Louisa had been true to her own
+predictions--she had so flattered and so assiduously wooed George
+Sampson that he was her devoted slave by this time.  He came to see her
+every night, and had assured Jim Hardy long ago that of all people in
+the world Louisa was the last who had anything to do with the stealing
+of the five-pound note.  Louisa's own charms were the sort which would
+appeal to a man like Sampson, but whether he would have made up his
+mind to marry her, if he did not know that she was safe to have a nice
+little sum down from her father on her wedding-day, remains an open
+question.
+
+As Alison walked home, many angry and jealous thoughts whirled through
+her brain.  Was Jim really false to her?--she forgot all about his face
+that afternoon; she forgot his earnest words.  She only recalled
+Louisa's look of triumph and the little play which was to be acted in
+her presence.
+
+"Yes, I'll be there," thought the girl; "yes, Christmas Eve shall
+decide it."
+
+She ran upstairs and entered the kitchen.  Grannie and David were
+sitting side by side, engaged in earnest conversation.  David blushed
+when he saw Alison, and suddenly slipped something under the table;
+Grannie patted his arm softly with her left hand.
+
+"Well, Ally, you are home in double-quick time," she said.
+
+"Too quick, is it?" said Alison, taking off her hat and flinging
+herself wearily into the nearest chair.
+
+"No, no, my child, never too quick," said the old lady; "and did you
+get a good bargain?" she added the next minute anxiously.  "Were you
+careful in the spending of that shillin'?  Why, I don't see any
+parcels.  For mercy's sake child, don't tell me that you dropped the
+shillin'."
+
+"No, I didn't, Grannie; here it is.  Somehow I am out of humor for
+bargains to-night--that's why I come back."
+
+Grannie took back the precious shilling tenderly.  She went to the
+cupboard and restored it to her purse.  As she did so, she gave a sigh
+of relief.  She was full of respect for Alison's powers, but not as a
+bargainer; she was certain she could get a penny-worth more value out
+of the shilling than her grand-daughter would.
+
+"Dave," she said, turning to the lad as she spoke, "Ally and I have
+made up our minds that, whatever happens, we'll have a right good
+Christmas.  We'll have a puddin' and snap-dragon, and a little bit of
+beef, and everything hot and tasty, and we'll have the stockings hung
+up just as usual by the children's beds; bless 'em, we'll manage it
+somehow--somehow or other it has got to be done.  Who knows but perhaps
+cheerful times may follow Christmas?  Yes, who knows?  There's never no
+use in being downhearted."
+
+"I suppose you are thinkin' of a wedding," said Alison suddenly.
+
+"Well, dear child, and why not?"
+
+"There's not much chance of it," was the reply, in a defiant tone.
+"Anyhow," continued Alison, "I've made up my mind to look for another
+situation to-morrow."
+
+Grannie's little white face became clouded.
+
+"I am going to Oxford Street, to a registry office," said Alison.  "I
+know lots about counter work, and I don't doubt that I may get a very
+good place; anyhow, I'm going to try."
+
+"Well, that's sperit, there's no denying that," said the old lady;
+"it's in the breed, and it can't be crushed."
+
+"David, what are you hiding under the table?" said Alison, in a fretful
+tone.  She felt too unhappy to be civil to anyone.
+
+"I have got spirit, too, and I'm not ashamed," said David suddenly.
+"It's a bit o' stuff I'm feather-stitching; there--I am learning the
+stitch."
+
+"Well!" said Alison; "you, a boy?"
+
+"Yes, I--a boy," he replied, looking her full between the eyes.
+
+There was something in the fearless glance of his gray eyes that caused
+her to lower her own--ashamed.
+
+"Dave's the blessing of my life," said Mrs. Reed; "he has learned the
+stitch, and though he do it slow, he do it true and beautiful.  It
+shan't never now die out of the fam'ly."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+Grannie felt that matters had arrived at a crisis.  Whatever the
+doctors chose to call the suffering which she endured, her right hand
+was fast becoming useless.  It was with her right hand that she
+supported her family; if it failed her, therefore, her livelihood was
+cut off.  She was a brave little woman; never in all her long life had
+she feared to look the truth in the face.  She looked at it now quietly
+and soberly.  Night after night she gazed at it as she lay in her tiny
+bed in her tiny bedroom, with a grandchild fast asleep at each side of
+her.  She lay motionless then, in too great pain to sleep, and with the
+future staring at her.
+
+To-night she went to bed as usual.  There was no manner of use in
+sitting up burning lamps and fire; it was far cheaper to lie down in
+the dark in bed.  She lay down and gazed straight out into the deep
+shadows which filled the little room.  It was a moonlight night, and
+some of the moon's rays pierced through the tiny window, but most of
+the room lay in shadow, and it was toward the shadow Grannie turned her
+eyes.
+
+"It's all true," she said to herself, "there aint no manner of use in
+denying it, or turning my face from it--it's true--it's the will o' the
+Lord.  My mother said to me--her as was a Simpson and married a
+Phipps--she said when my father died, 'Patty, it's the will o' the
+Lord.'  I didn't like, somehow, to hear her say it--the will o' the
+Lord seemed so masterful like, so crushing like, so cruel.  And now the
+will o' the Lord has come to me.  It wor the Lord's will to bless me
+all my life hitherto, but now it is his will to make things sore dark.
+Somehow I can't trust and I can't hope, for there's nothing to hope
+for, and there are the children, four of 'em unable to earn their
+bread.  Harry must make shift to do something, but there are three
+little ones.  Oh, good Lord, don't ever let me hear the children cry
+for bread!"
+
+As Grannie whispered these words out into the darkness, she laid her
+left hand tenderly on the flaxen head of her youngest grandchild.  Her
+hand stroked down the smooth, round head; the child stirred in her
+dreams, murmured "Grannie," and turned over on her other side.  She was
+very well, and very happy--as plump as a little button--a bonny,
+bright-eyed creature.  Grannie used to adore her stout legs.
+
+"Kitty have always been so well fed," she used to say; "that's the
+secret--there's nothink like it--nothink."
+
+And she had held the fat baby, and by and by the fat little girl, up
+admiringly for less fortunate neighbors to criticise.
+
+Now the fiat had fallen; the bread-winner could no longer earn the
+family meal, and Kitty and the others would have to do without their
+bread and butter.
+
+"It is true, and it must be faced," thought the old woman.  "The p'int
+to be considered now is, how is it to be faced?  Wot's the best way?"
+
+Grannie thought matters over very carefully.  Before the morning she
+had marked out a line of action for herself.  Christmas Day should come
+and go before any of the dark shadow which filled her own breast should
+descend upon the younger members of the household.  David and Alison
+knew about it, or at least they partly knew, although it was impossible
+for them to quite realize the extent of the disaster.  It was arranged,
+too, that Harry was to leave school, so he also must partly guess that
+something was up; but the little ones had never known sorrow yet, and
+Grannie resolved that they should have a perfect Christmas Day.
+Afterward, if Alison would only consent to marry Jim, half the family
+would be provided for.  For Grannie, although she was proud, had no
+false pride, and she felt that a man who was earning such magnificent
+wages as two pounds a week might undertake the care, at any rate for a
+time, of two little children.  But even granted that Alison and the two
+youngest were off her hands, there were still David, Harry, and Annie
+to provide for.  Grannie could not see her way plain with regard to
+these three members of the family.  She resolved to ask the advice of
+an old clergyman of the name of Williams, who had often before given
+her valuable counsel.  Mr. Williams was most kind; he was full of
+resources; he took a great interest in the poor; he had known Grannie
+for close on twenty years; he might be able to help her in this
+critical moment of her fate, Having made up her mind so far, the little
+woman fell asleep.
+
+When she heard at an early hour the following morning that Alison was
+still fully resolved to seek for a new situation, she suggested that
+she should call at the shop in Regent Street, see the manager, and
+explain to him as best she could that it was out of Grannie's power to
+do any more needlework.
+
+"You had best go," said Grannie, looking up at the girl with her bright
+blue eyes, and a determined expression steeling her sweet old mouth
+almost to sternness.  "Jest see the manager, Mr. Squire, and tell him
+the simple truth.  Take him back this underclothing; it is finished
+beautiful all but the feather-stitching.  I know he'll be put out, but
+I suppose he'll give me half pay--o' course, I don't expec' more.  Ef
+that cambric had been properly feather-stitched there was thirty
+shillings to be got on it; but I'll be glad of fifteen, and you can let
+Mr. Squire know.  I am pleased that Dave knows the stitch, for he can
+teach it to his wife when he gets one.  He have promised, dear lad;
+there's a fortin' in it yet, for a member of the fam'ly wot _hasn't_
+learned handwriting.  It's them schools wot are at the bottom of all
+this trouble, Alison.  Talk of edication!  My mother, wot was a Simpson
+by birth, could only put a cross agin her name, but Lor', wot a fine
+woman she was with sprigs!--we called the beginning of the
+feather-stitching sprigs in them days.  It was she invented sprigs, and
+she had no writers' cramp, nor a chance o' it, bless her!  Now then,
+dearie, run off, and bring me back the fifteen shillings.  We'll try to
+keep up 'eart till after Christmas Day."
+
+Alison was very silent and depressed, but she promised to do exactly as
+her grandmother wished in the matter of the feather-stitching; and with
+the cambric made up into a neat parcel she soon left the little flat.
+
+Grannie sighed deeply when she saw her go.  The little woman felt that
+she had burned her boats; there was no going back on anything now.  She
+had severed with her own hands her best connection, and nothing could
+ever be the same again.  A sort of agony came over her as she heard
+Alison running downstairs, a fierce desire to call her back, to beg of
+her not to go to Mr. Squire at all that day; but one glance at the
+swollen, useless hand made her change her mind.  She sat down limp on
+the nearest chair, and one or two slow tears trickled out of her eyes.
+
+By dinner time Alison was back; she was full of her own concerns, and
+considered Grannie and the feather-stitching, for the time being, quite
+a secondary matter.
+
+"The shop is a very good one," she said, "and they want a girl.  If I
+can bring a good character, I am very likely to get the situation.  It
+is twelve shillings a week, four--four shillings more than Shaw used to
+give me.  If only I can get Shaw to give me a character I'll be all
+right, and on twelve shillings a week we can keep up the house somehow;
+can't we, Grannie?"
+
+Grannie pursed up her lips, but did not speak.
+
+She knew far better than Alison that these small wages, although an
+immense help, could not possibly do the work which her
+feather-stitching money had accomplished.
+
+"Well, dearie," she said, after a pause, "I am glad that things are so
+far good; but have you quite made up your mind not to marry poor Jim,
+then, Alison?"
+
+"No, no, not quite," she replied, coloring; "but the fact is, I want
+two strings to my bow.  By the way, I did not tell you that the Clays
+have invited me to a party there to-morrow night?"
+
+"The Clays!" exclaimed Grannie.  "Sakes! you aint goin' to them?"
+
+"Yes, but I am.  I have promised."
+
+"I don't think the Clays are the sort of people that a girl of your
+breed ought to know, Alison.  Poor as we are, we hold up our heads, and
+why shouldn't we, being----"
+
+"Oh, Grannie, here is your fifteen shillings," interrupted Alison.  "I
+saw Mr. Squire, and he said he was sorry, but he really could not offer
+more, as the feather-stitching was not done."
+
+"He were put out, weren't he?" said Grannie, her little face puckered
+up in her intense anxiety to know how Mr. Squire bore the calamity.
+
+"After a fashion, yes," said Alison; "but he said the new embroidery
+which is coming in so much would do quite as well, and he knew a woman
+who would do the things in a hurry.  He said: 'Give my compliments to
+Mrs. Reed, and say I am sorry to lose her nice work,' and he paid me my
+money and bowed me out of the shop."
+
+"It is all over, Grannie," continued the girl, cruel in her severity,
+and not knowing she was stabbing the old woman's heart at every word.
+"You place wonderful store by that feather-stitching, but the new
+embroidery will do quite as well for all the fine ladies, and other
+women will get the money."
+
+"Yes, yes," said Grannie, "yes, it is the will o' the Lord.  Somehow,
+that seems to steady me up--to bear it like."
+
+She went out of the room tottering a little, but came back quite
+cheerful when the children returned home for the midday meal.
+
+After dinner Alison went to see Mr. Shaw.  She did not like this job at
+all, but she knew she had no chance of getting another place unless she
+could induce Shaw to give her a character.  She planned how best to go
+to the shop without being observed by the rest of the shop people.  She
+was too handsome a girl not to have created a great deal of attention
+during her stay at Shaw's, and now, with this story about the theft
+hanging over her head, she would be more interesting and more worthy of
+criticism than ever.  She dreaded beyond words being seen at Shaw's,
+more particularly by Louisa Clay and Jim Hardy.  She crept in by a side
+entrance, and as the shop was very full at this hour (Christmas being
+so close at hand, the crowd this afternoon was denser than ever), she
+managed to escape attention.  She could see without being noticed.  She
+observed Louisa flaunting about the shop, looking very handsome, and on
+every possible occasion appealing to Jim for advice or help.  Jim was
+the walker to-day, and Louisa was always calling him to her on one
+pretext or another.  It seemed to Alison's jealous eyes that the young
+man did not dislike her too-evident attentions.  He always replied to
+her with courtesy, and, according to Alison, stood by her side longer
+than was necessary.
+
+"I must get that situation in Oxford Street," muttered the girl to
+herself.  "I shall feel fit to kill those two if ever they are wed, and
+the further I am off the better."
+
+Her angry and excited feelings gave her courage, and she was able to
+ask a comparative stranger--a girl who scarcely knew her--if she could
+see Mr. Shaw.
+
+"I am afraid you cannot to-day," was the reply.  "The manager is too
+busy, but if you like to call again----"
+
+"No, no, I see him there.  I'll ask him myself," was the reply.
+
+"Lor', what cheek!" muttered the new shop-girl; but Alison was too far
+away to hear her.
+
+She had approached Mr. Shaw as he was wishing one of his customers "A
+Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."  He turned round with a smile on
+his lips.  Things were doing remarkably well, and he could afford to be
+cheerful.  Suddenly his rather staring, bloodshot eyes encountered the
+full gaze of Alison's clear blue ones.
+
+"Eh, Miss Reed?" he said, stepping back in astonishment.
+
+"Yes, sir; can I speak to you?" said Alison.
+
+"Certainly, my dear, certainly; come this way.  She has found out who
+the thief is, and will come back once more," muttered the manager to
+himself.  "She's the best and most attractive shopwoman I ever had; she
+shall come back immediately after Christmas."
+
+He hurried Alison through the shop into his own little counting-house.
+He shut the door then, and asked her to seat herself.
+
+"How are you?" he said, fixing his eyes with a sort of coarse
+admiration on her face.  "You have got at the truth of this miserable
+matter, have you not?  Now, I wonder who the thief is, eh?  Well, all I
+can say is this: I am right glad that you know.  We miss you, Miss
+Reed, in the shop.  Your services have been of great value to us.  I
+shall have the person who took that money prosecuted; there's not the
+least doubt about that.  Your character will be abundantly cleared, and
+you can resume your post here immediately after the Christmas holidays."
+
+"I thought," said Alison, "that you had got someone else to fill my
+place."
+
+"So I have, so I have--that Jenkins girl--the daughter of poor Tom
+Jenkins, who died in the autumn; but, bless you, she's no good; she
+don't even know the meaning of drawing on a customer!  You see, Miss
+Reed, I don't mean to flatter you, but you have got the tact, and just
+when the sales are beginning you will be invaluable.  I can offer you a
+percentage on all the remnants you dispose of.  Come, now, that's a
+bargain; you'll be right welcome back.  You have got tact, and if I may
+be allowed to say so--_looks_."
+
+Here the manager gave Alison another broad stare.
+
+"By the way, who is the thief?" he continued.
+
+"You quite misunderstand me, sir," said Alison.  "I have not found the
+thief--I have not the faintest idea who stole that money; I only know
+that I did not, and that nothing will induce me to set foot again in
+this shop as one of the staff until I am cleared."
+
+"Then, my good girl, may I ask what in the world you are wasting my
+time for?"
+
+He approached the door of his tiny counting-house, and half opened it
+as he spoke.
+
+"One minute, sir, please.  Although I cannot of course come here, I
+naturally want to get another situation."
+
+"I dare say; but that is not my affair."
+
+"Oh, yes, please, sir, it is!  I have just heard of a very good post in
+Oxford Street.  I saw the manager this morning, and he said that he
+would give me the situation if you could recommend me.  Will you, sir;
+will you give me a character, Mr. Shaw?"
+
+"You have cheek," said Shaw, in a deliberate voice.  "Do you suppose I
+am going to recommend a thief?"
+
+"But, oh, sir, oh, Mr. Shaw, you know I am not that!"
+
+"I don't know anything of the kind; I only know that you are a brazen,
+unreasonable hussy.  You know perfectly well that when you left here
+you forfeited your character.  Yes, your attitude, let me tell you,
+Miss Reed, cuts both ways.  If you don't choose to come here until you
+are cleared, I don't give you a character until you are cleared.  Come,
+now, that's a fair bargain, is it not?"
+
+"Oh, sir, it is so hard of you!" said Alison.  "Sir, if you would but
+be merciful!"
+
+"That's my last word," said Shaw.  "I must go back to attend to my
+customers."
+
+He left the counting-house abruptly, and Alison did not take long in
+following his example.
+
+"It is no good, Grannie," she said, when she entered her little home
+half an hour afterward.  "Shaw is as hard as a millstone.  He won't
+give me a character until I am cleared; and, as I never shall be
+cleared, why, I'll never get a character, and I cannot get a situation.
+What is to become of me, Grannie; oh, Grannie, what is to become of me?"
+
+At these words Alison gave way to the most terrible, overpowering
+grief.  She did not know how to comfort Grannie, but Grannie knew how
+to comfort her.  She patted her as if she were a baby; she stroked her
+soft hair, and kissed her hot cheeks, and laid her head on her own
+little shoulder, and made tea, although the supply in the caddy was
+getting very low, and then talked to her as she knew how, and with
+wonderful cunning and power of Jim, Jim, Jim.
+
+As Alison loved Jim this subject could not but be of interest to her.
+
+"There's no other way out of it," said Grannie finally.  "He is yer
+sweetheart, faithful and true--he don't suspect you; he never will
+suspect you.  You whisper 'yes' to him on Christmas night, dearie, and
+don't wait for next Tuesday.  It's the right thing to do, it's the only
+right thing to do."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+On Christmas Eve, Grannie went out and stayed away for about an hour.
+She looked mysterious when she came back.  She wore her zebra-pattern
+shawl, which was quite bulged out with parcels.  These she conveyed
+quickly into her bedroom, notwithstanding the devouring eyes which the
+children cast upon them.
+
+"Out of that," she said, pushing them all aside; "none of your
+curiosity, or you'll get nothing.  What right have you to suppose as
+I'm agoin' to waste my money a-giving presents to little brats like
+you?  Now, out of the way, out of the way.  For goodness' sake Polly,
+set down and finish stoning 'em raisins.  Annie, is that a currant I
+see in yer mouth, you bad, greedy girl?  I'll whack you, as sure as my
+name's Grannie."
+
+Then Grannie disappeared into her room and locked the door amid the
+screams of excitement and laughter of the happy children.  "I am an old
+fool to do it," she said to herself, trembling a good deal, for somehow
+she had been feeling very weak the last few days; the constant pain and
+anxiety had told upon her.  "I am an old fool to spend seven and
+sixpence on nothing at all but gimcracks to put into the Christmas
+stockings; but there, I must see 'em happy once again--I must--I will.
+Afterwards there'll be a dark time, I know; but on Christmas Day it
+shall be all light--all light, and cheerfulness, and trust, for the
+sake of the dear Lord wot was born a babe in Bethlehem."
+
+Grannie very carefully deposited her parcels in the old-fashioned
+bureau which stood in the corner of the tiny bedroom.  She locked it up
+and put the key in her pocket, and returned to the little sitting room.
+
+Alison was busy trimming her party dress.  She had a party dress, and
+quite a stylish one.  It was made of pink nun's-veiling, which she had
+got very cheap as a bargain at Shaw's when the summer sale was over.
+The dress was made simply, quite high to the throat, with long sleeves,
+but the plain skirt and rather severe-looking bodice, with its frill of
+lace round the throat and wrists, gave Alison that curiously refined,
+ladylike appearance which was so rare in her station of life.  She had
+a sort of natural instinct which kept her from overdressing, and she
+always looked the picture of neatness.  She was furbishing up the lace
+on the dress now, and Polly was seated by the little table stoning the
+raisins for the Christmas pudding, and gazing with admiration at her
+sister all the while.  The Christmas bustle and sense of festivity
+which Grannie had insisted on bringing into the air, infected everyone.
+Even Alison felt rather cheerful; as she trimmed up the old dress she
+kept singing a merry tune.  If it was her bounden duty to marry Jim--to
+return the great love he bore her--to be his faithful and true
+wife--then all the calamity of the last few days would be past.  Good
+luck would once more shine upon her.  Once again she would be the
+happiest of the happy.
+
+"Oh, yes, I love him!" she murmured to herself.  "I love him better
+every day, every hour, every minute; he is all the world to me.  I
+think of him all day long, and dream of him all through the night.  I
+could be good for him.  If he is strong enough and great enough to get
+over the fact of my being accused of theft, why, I'll take him; yes,
+I'll take him.  It will make Grannie happy too.  Poor old Grannie! she
+don't look too well the last day or two.  It is wonderful, but I think
+she is fretting sore about that feather-stitching.  Poor dear! she
+thinks more of that feather-stitching than of most anything else in the
+world; but, Lor' bless her, they'll soon be putting something else in
+its place in the West End shops.  The feather-stitching will be
+old-fashioned beside the embroidery.  Poor old Grannie, it is hard on
+her!"
+
+By this time the tea hour had arrived.  Alison took her dress into her
+little bedroom, laid it on the bed, and came back to help to get ready
+the family meal.  David and Harry both came noisily upstairs to partake
+of it.  They were going out immediately afterward to the boys' club,
+and told Grannie that they would not be back to supper.
+
+"There are going to be real high jinks at the club to-night," said
+Harry; "a magic lantern and a conjurer, and afterward we are to play
+leapfrog and billiards, and end up with a boxing match.  That swell,
+Mr. Rolfe, is the right sort.  Anyone would think that he had known
+boys from this part of the world all his days."
+
+"Boys is boys all the world over," said Grannie; "be they rich or poor,
+high or low, they are just the same--mischeevous, restless young
+wagabones.  Now then, Harry, for goodness gracious, don't spill your
+tea on the cloth.  My word! wot a worry you all are."
+
+"You know you don't think so, Grannie," said the audacious boy.  His
+black eyes laughed into her blue ones; she gave him a smile into which
+she threw her whole brave heart.  He remembered that smile in the dark
+days which were to follow.
+
+Tea was over, and presently Alison went into her room to dress.  She
+did not intend putting in an appearance at the Clays' before nine
+o'clock, and she told Grannie not to sit up for her.  Of course Jim
+would see her home.  It occurred to her, and her heart beat faster at
+the thought, that she might be able to give Jim his final answer on her
+way home; if so, what a glorious Christmas present would be hers.
+Accordingly, as she dressed her hair she sang a cheerful little song
+under her breath.  Grannie heard her in the kitchen, paused with her
+finger on her lip, and enjoined silence for a moment, and then smiled
+in a very heart-whole manner.
+
+"To be sure," she murmured to herself "the will of the Lord seems full
+o' mercy to-night.  Wot do it matter about an old body like me, ef
+things go right for the children?  Oh, good Lord, I commit these
+children to thy care; do for 'em wot is right, and don't trouble about
+an old body.  I don't count; I know my place is safe enough for me in
+the Kingdom.  I need not fret about wot is left for this world."
+
+When Alison came out of her room, looking beautiful, and fifty times
+too good for the company she was to be with, Grannie gave her a kiss,
+which was so full of gladness and meaning as to be almost solemn.
+
+"And Jim will see you home," said the old lady.  "Oh, yes, yes!"
+
+"To be sure; but don't sit up, Grannie," said Alison.
+
+"I won't ef you don't wish it, love.  You'll find the key under the
+mat; now go off, and a Christmas blessin' with you."
+
+Alison departed, and soon afterward the younger children were hustled
+off to bed.  They were very much excited, and did not at all wish to
+retire at this comparatively early hour, but Grannie was peremptory.
+She had plenty of work to do after the rogues were asleep, she
+murmured.  So off to bed they went, with a couple of raisins each by
+way of comfort; and when she thought they were snoring she slipped
+softly into her room to fetch the brown paper parcels, and the long
+woolen stockings which year after year had done duty for the Santa
+Claus gifts.  If she suspected it, she took good care not to look;
+nevertheless, the fact remains that the three little snorers did open
+their eyes for a brief moment, and did see the parcels going out, and
+the stockings following them, and then turned round to hug each other
+in an ecstacy of bliss.  On this occasion Alison's companion slept with
+her two sisters, and they kept up a little chatter, like birds in a
+nest, for quite five minutes after Grannie had left them.  She heard
+them, of course,--for every sound could be heard in the little
+flat,--but she took no notice.
+
+"Bless 'em, how happy they are!" she said to herself.  "Bless the Lord,
+oh, my soul.  I do declare there's a sight o' good to be got out of
+life, writers' cramp or not.  Now, then, to open these parcels."
+
+The parcels when opened produced a wonderful array of cheap workboxes,
+needle-cases, pin-trays, ornamental pens, boxes full of bon-bons, penny
+whistles, twopenny flutes, a Jew's-harp or two; in short, a medley of
+every kind of heterogeneous presents which could be produced with the
+modest sum of from a penny to twopence halfpenny.  Grannie fully
+believed in numbers.  She knew from past experience that the children
+would rather have half a dozen small things than one big thing.  The
+worsted stockings, too, which had been knit in a bygone age, by the
+celebrated Mrs. Simpson, the inventor of the sprig, were deep and long.
+They took a great deal of filling, and Grannie knew what keen
+disappointment would be the result if each stocking was not chock-full.
+She collected her wares, sorted them into six parcels, laid the six
+stockings on the table by the side of the gifts, and then began to
+select the most appropriate gifts for each.  Yes; Alison should have
+the little basket which contained the pretty thimble, the little plush
+pin-cushion glued on at one corner, and two reels of cotton kept in
+their place by a neat little band, and the needle-book at the opposite
+side.
+
+"This is the werry nattiest thing I have seen for many a day," murmured
+Grannie, "and only tuppence three farthings.  I'll take the price off,
+of course.  Now, suppose Ally comes back an engaged girl, could she
+have anything prettier than this little basket?  It shall go in the top
+of the stocking, jest where it can peep out and look at her the first
+thing in the morning."
+
+The stockings were filled at last; the toes and heels dexterously
+stuffed out with apples and oranges; the gifts following next--each
+separate gift wrapped in paper, and tied neatly with string.
+
+"Quite half the fun is in the untying of the string," thought Mrs.
+Reed.  "Oh, how the little 'earts will go pitter-patter!  Don't I know
+it myself?  Why, when I were nothing more than a five-year-old Phipps,
+I remember as well as possible taking my presents out of this werry
+stocking, and trembling all over when I couldn't untie the knot of the
+parcel which held that cock made of sugar, wot I kept on the
+chimney-piece for many and many a day afterward; for though mother give
+it to me, she wouldn't let me eat it."
+
+The six stockings were filled, and each stocking hung at the foot of
+its future owner's bed.  The children were sound asleep now, and the
+boys at the club, and the girl at her party forgot all about such a
+trivial thing as poor old Santa Claus and his stocking, but Grannie was
+very thankful that the stockings should hang at the foot of the beds
+for the last time.  When all was done and the kitchen made as neat as a
+new pin she fell on her knees and uttered a short prayer--a prayer
+which was more praise than prayer.  She then got into bed, and quickly
+fell asleep; for she was very tired, and, wonderful to say, her hand
+and arm did not ache as much as usual.
+
+Not far away was Tragedy coming to meet her with quick strides, but the
+little woman was under the shadow of God's wing to-night, and had
+neither fear nor trouble.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+When Alison arrived at the Clays' the fun was in full swing.  The house
+was crowded--not only the long sitting room, but the little hall, and a
+good way up the stairs.  A stage had been erected at one end of the
+sitting room; on this stage now the actors were disporting themselves.
+As Alison had not arrived in time for supper, no one took any notice of
+her when she appeared.  She found that it was quite impossible to hope
+to get a corner, either to sit or stand, in the room where the acting
+was going on.  She had, therefore, to content herself with leaning up
+against the wall in the passage, and now and then bending forward so as
+to see the one person about whom she was the least interested--Jim
+himself.
+
+The play was a very poor affair, and consisted of several short scenes
+acted in the style of charades, with impromptu conversations, which
+mostly consisted of coarse jests and innuendoes; but the loud laughter
+of the spectators assured Alison that this style of thing was quite up
+to their level.  She felt rather sickened at Jim's taking part in
+anything so commonplace; but her love for him, which grew daily, gave
+her a certain sense of rest and happiness at even being in his
+vicinity.  He did not know she was there, but that mattered little or
+nothing.  When the play was over he would come out and see her, and
+then everything would be smooth and delightful.  She forgot to be
+jealous of Louisa; she even forgot the fact that a few short weeks ago
+she had been publicly accused of theft; she only knew that she wore her
+best frock; she was only conscious that she looked her best and
+brightest, that when Jim's eyes did rest upon her he could not but
+acknowledge her charm; she was only well aware that it was Christmas
+Eve, and that all the world was rejoicing.  She stood, therefore, in
+the crowded hall with a smiling face, her hands lightly, clasped in
+front of her, her thoughts full of peace, and yet stimulated to a
+certain excited joy.
+
+Between the acts people began to go in and out of the large sitting
+room, and on these occasions Alison was jostled about a good bit.  She
+was quite pushed up against the stairs, and had some difficulty in
+keeping her balance.  She saw a man stare at her with a very coarse
+sort of admiration.  She did not know the man, and she shrank from his
+gaze; but the next moment she saw him speaking to a girl who she knew
+belonged to Shaw's establishment.  The girl's reply came distinctly to
+her ears.
+
+"Yes, I suppose she is pretty enough," she said.  "We always spoke of
+her as genteel at Shaw's.  Oh, you want to know her name, Mr. Manners?
+Her name is Alison Reed.  She left Shaw's because she stole a
+five-pound note.  It was awfully good of him not to prosecute her."
+
+"That girl a thief!" said the man who was addressed as Manners.  "I
+don't believe it."
+
+"Oh, but she is!  She was in such a fright that she left the shop the
+very day she was accused.  That shows guilt--don't it, now?"
+
+Alison could not hear Manners' reply, but after a time, the sharp voice
+of the girl again reached her ears.
+
+"They do say as Jim Hardy, our foreman, was sweet on her, but of course
+he has given her up now; he is all agog for Louisa Clay, the girl he is
+acting with to-night.  They say they are sweethearts, and they'll be
+married early in the year.  It is a very good match for him, for Louisa
+has lots of money and----"
+
+The speakers moved on, and Alison could not catch another word.  She
+had gained a comfortable position for herself now, and was leaning
+firmly against the wall.  The words which had reached her she fully and
+completely realized.  She was accustomed to being considered a thief;
+she always would be considered a thief until that five-pound note was
+found.  It was very painful, it was bitter to be singled out in that
+way, to have attention drawn to her as such a character; but the words
+which related to Jim she absolutely laughed at.  Was not Jim her own
+faithful lover?  Would he not see her home to-night, believing in her
+fully and entirely?  Oh, yes.  Whatever the world at large thought of
+her, she was good enough for Jim.  Yes, yes.  She would promise to be
+his to-night, she would not wait until next Tuesday.  What was the good
+of pushing happiness away when it came so close?  A cup full of such
+luck was not offered to every girl.  She would drink it up; she would
+enjoy it to the full.  Then envious and malicious tongues would have to
+be quiet, for she would prove by her engagement that Jim, at least,
+believed in her.  She drew up her head proudly as this thought came to
+her.
+
+The next act in the noisy little play was just beginning, and those who
+cared for seats in the room were pushing forward; the crowd in the
+passage was therefore less oppressive.  Alison moved forward a step or
+two, and stood in such a position that she was partly sheltered by a
+curtain.  She had scarcely done so before, to her great astonishment,
+Hardy and Louisa came out.  They stood together for a moment or two in
+the comparatively deserted passage.  Other characters occupied the
+stage for the time being, and Louisa was glad to get into the
+comparatively fresh air to cool herself.
+
+"Oh, aint it hot?" she said.  "Fan me," she added, offering Jim a huge
+fan gaudily painted in many colors.
+
+She unfurled it as she spoke, and put it into his hand.
+
+"Make a breeze o' some sort," she said; "do, or I'll faint!"
+
+Jim looked pleased and excited.  He was fantastically dressed in the
+stage costume in which he had shortly to appear.  Alison, partly
+sheltered by the curtain, could see well without being seen herself.
+
+"The play is going splendid, Jim," said Louisa.  "I'm ever so pleased."
+
+"I am glad of that," replied Jim.
+
+"I thought you would be.  Well, I do feel a happy girl to-night."
+
+"And when is it to be?" said Jim, bending down and looking earnestly
+into her face.
+
+She flushed when he spoke to her, and immediately lowered her eyes.
+
+"I aint made up my mind quite yet," she said.
+
+"But you will?" he replied, in a voice full of solicitude.
+
+"I don't know.  Would it please you if I did?"
+
+"I needn't say that it would," was the reply.  "I think it would make
+me real happy."
+
+"Well, ef I thought that----"
+
+Louisa took her fan out of Jim Hardy's hand and began to toy with it in
+a somewhat affected manner.  Then her expression changed to one of
+absolute passion.
+
+"I don't think there is anything in heaven above, or the earth beneath,
+I wouldn't do, Jim Hardy, even to please you for half an hour; to
+please you is the light of life to me.  So, if you wish it, let it
+be--there!  I can't say any more, can I?"
+
+"You can't; you have said enough," he replied gravely.  "There is our
+call," he added; "we must go back.  Are you cooler now?"
+
+"Much cooler, thanks to you."
+
+The call came a second time.  Louisa hurried forward; Jim followed her.
+Neither of them noticed the listening girl behind the curtain.  The
+next moment loud cheers filled the room as Hardy and Louisa took their
+places side by side in the front of the stage.
+
+Alison waited until the great uproar had subsided, then she slipped
+into the dressing room where she had gone on her arrival, put on her
+hat and jacket steadily and calmly, and went home.  She had no
+intention now of waiting for Jim.  She never meant to wait for Jim any
+more.  He was false as no man had ever been false before.  She would
+forget him, she would drive him out of her life.  He had dared to come
+and talk of marriage to her when he really loved another girl; he had
+dared to give her words of tenderness when his heart was with Louisa
+Clay.
+
+"It is all over," whispered Alison quite quietly under her breath.
+
+She wondered, in a dull sort of fashion, why she felt so quiet; why she
+did not suffer a great deal more; why the sense of disappointment and
+cruel desertion did not break her heart.  She was sure that by and by
+her heart would awaken, and pain--terrible, intense pain would be her
+portion; but just now she felt quiet and stunned.  She was glad of
+this.  It was Christmas Eve, but Jim was not walking home with her.
+The Christmas present she had hoped for was not to be hers.  Well,
+never mind, to-morrow would be Christmas Day.  Jim was invited to
+dinner, to that good dinner which Grannie had no right to buy, but
+which Grannie had bought to give the children one last happy day.
+Alison herself had made the cake and had frosted it, and Alison herself
+had stirred the pudding, and had thought of Jim's face as it would look
+when he sat with the children round the family board.  He would never
+sit there now; she must never see him again.  She would write to him
+the moment she got in, and then, having put him out of her life once
+and for ever, she would help Grannie to keep the Merry Christmas.
+
+She walked up the weary number of steps to the flat on the fifth floor.
+She found the key under the mat, and then went in.  Grannie had left
+everything ready for her.  Grannie had thought of a betrothed maiden
+who would enter the little house with the air of a queen who had come
+suddenly into her kingdom.  Grannie, who was sound asleep at this
+moment, had no idea that Despair itself was coming home in the last
+hours just before the blessed Christmas broke.  Alison opened the door
+very softly, and, going into the kitchen, took down her writing
+portfolio from a little shelf where she generally kept it, and wrote a
+short letter to Jim.
+
+
+"Dear Jim: I have made up my mind, and in this letter you will get your
+final answer.  I will not marry anybody until I am cleared of this
+trouble about the five-pound note; and whether I am cleared or not, I
+shall never marry you, _for I don't love you_.  I found out to-night it
+was all a mistake, and what I thought was love was not.  I don't love
+you, Jim, and I never wish to see you again.  Please don't come to
+dinner to-morrow, and please don't ever try to see me.  This is final.
+I don't love you; that is your answer.
+
+"ALISON REED."
+
+
+Having signed the letter in a very firm hand, Alison put it into an
+envelope, addressed and stamped it.  She then went out and dropped it
+into a pillar-box near by.  Jim would get it on Christmas morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+Christmas Day went by.  It was quiet enough, although the children
+shouted with glee over their stockings and ate their dinner heartily.
+There was a depressed feeling under all the mirth, although Alison wore
+her very best dress and laughed and sang, and in the evening played
+blindman's buff with the children.  There was a shadow over the home,
+although Grannie talked quietly in the corner of the Blessed Prince of
+Peace, and of the true reason for Christmas joy.  Jim's place was
+empty, but no one remarked it.  The children were too happy to miss
+him, and the elder members of the party were too wise to say what they
+really felt.
+
+Boxing Day was almost harder to bear than Christmas Day.  Alison stayed
+quietly in the house all the morning, but toward the afternoon she grew
+restless.
+
+"Dave," she said, "will you and Harry come for a walk with me?"
+
+"To be sure," answered both the boys, brightening up.  The little girls
+clamored to accompany them.
+
+"No, no," said Grannie, "you'll stay with me.  I have a job on hand,
+and I want you to help me.  It is tearing up old letters, and putting
+lots of things in order.  And maybe I'll give you a chocolate each when
+it is done."
+
+The promise of the chocolates was comforting, and the little ones
+stayed at home not ill pleased.  Alison went out with her two brothers.
+She held herself very erect, and there was a proud look on her face.
+She had never looked handsomer nor more a lady.  David felt very proud
+of her.  He did not understand her just now, it is true, but he was
+pleased when people turned round to look at her; and when admiring
+glances came in her way, he walked close to her with an air of
+protection, and was glad that his sister was better looking than other
+fellows'.  They all turned their steps in the direction of Victoria
+Park.  They had just got there when quick footsteps overtook them, and
+Jim Hardy came up.
+
+"Hullo," he said, when he approached the little party.  "Stop, can't
+you?  I have been running after you all this time."
+
+David and Harry both stopped, but Alison walked on.
+
+"That's all right," said Jim, nodding to the boys.  "You stay back a
+bit, won't you, like good fellows?  I want to have a talk with your
+sister."
+
+Harry felt inclined to demur, for he was fond of Jim, and his own
+pleasure always was first with him; but David understood, and gripped
+his brother's arm fiercely, holding him back.
+
+"Keep back," he said, in a whisper; "can't you see for yourself that
+there's trouble there?"
+
+"Trouble where?" said Harry, opening his eyes.
+
+"You are a muff.  Can't you see that something has put Alison out?"
+
+"I can see that she is very disagreeable," said Harry.  "I suppose she
+is in love, that's what it means.  She is in love with Jim Hardy.  But
+he is going to marry Louisa Clay; everybody says so."
+
+"Shut up," said David.  "You are a silly.  Hardy thinks no more of
+Louisa than he does of you."
+
+"Well, let us make for the pond and leave them alone," said Harry.  "I
+do believe the ice will bear in a day or two."
+
+The boys rushed off to the right, and Alison and Jim walked down the
+broad center path.  Alison's heart was beating wildly.  The love which
+she was trying to slay rose up like a giant in her heart.
+
+"But I won't show it," thought the proud girl to herself.  "He shall
+never, never think that I fret because he has thrown me over for
+another.  If, loving me, he could care for Louisa, he is not my sort.
+No, I won't fret, no, I won't; I'll show him that I don't care."
+
+"I'm glad I met you," said Jim.  Jim was a very proud fellow, too, in
+his own way.  Alison's queer letter had pierced him to the quick.  Not
+having the faintest clew to her reason for writing it, he was feeling
+justly very angry.
+
+"I didn't come in yesterday," he continued, "when you made it so plain
+that you didn't want me; but, all the same, I felt that we must talk
+this matter out."
+
+"There's nothing to talk out," said Alison.  "You knew my mind when you
+got that letter, and that's about all I've got to say."
+
+"That letter was a lie from first to last," said Jim boldly.
+
+Alison turned and looked full at him.  Her face was white.  Her big
+blue eyes blazed and looked dark.
+
+"The letter was true," she said.  "Girls can't help being contrary now
+and then.  I don't want to see you again, I don't want to have anything
+to do with you.  I made a mistake when I said I loved you.  I found out
+just in time that I didn't.  It was a right good thing I found it out
+before we was wed, instead of afterwards; I did, and we are safe, and
+you can give yourself, heart and soul, with a clear conscience, to
+another."
+
+"I can't make out what you are driving at," said Jim.  "You know
+perfectly well, Alison, that I love no one in all the world but
+yourself."
+
+"Oh! don't you?" said Alison.
+
+"Really, Ally, you will drive me mad if you go on talking in that
+unreasonable way.  Of course I don't care for anyone but you, and you
+always gave me to understand that you returned my love.  Come, darlin',
+what is it?  You must know that after all you have said to me in the
+past, I can't believe that letter of yours; it is all against common
+sense.  People can't love and then unlove in that sort o' fashion.
+Tell me the truth, Ally.  Something made you angry; and you love me as
+much as ever, don't you, darlin'?  Come, let us make it up.  There is
+something at the bottom of this, and you ought to tell me.  As to your
+not loving me, that is all fudge, you know."
+
+Alison's heart, which had lain so dead in her breast, began suddenly to
+stir and dance with a queer excitement.  After all, had she made a
+mistake?  Was Jim really faithful to her after all?  But, no; how could
+she mistake?  She had heard the words herself.  Oh, yes, of course, Jim
+was false; and for all he had such an honest voice, and the truest eyes
+in all the world, Alison must turn her back on him, for she could not
+doubt the hearing of her own ears and the seeing of her own eyes.
+
+"I am sorry," she said, in a cold voice, when Jim had paused and looked
+eagerly for her answer.  "I am sorry, but after all it is a pity that
+we met to-day, for my letter really told you everything.  I don't love
+you.  You wouldn't marry a girl what didn't love you; would you, Jim?"
+
+"No, no," said Jim; "no marriage could be happy, it would be a cruel
+mistake, without love.  It seems to me that marriage is a sin, an awful
+sin, if there aint love to make it beautiful."
+
+"Well, then, it would be a sin for us to marry," said Alison.  "You can
+see that for yourself.  You need have no scruples, Jim; you can do what
+you wish."
+
+"Well, that is to marry you," said Jim.  "Come, Ally, there is a
+strange thing over you, my dearie, but show me your true self once
+again.  Come, darlin'.  Why, you are going nigh to break my heart, the
+way you are going on."
+
+For a moment Alison's belief in what she had herself seen was staggered
+by Jim's words and the ring of pain in his voice, but only for a
+moment.  The thought of Louisa and the tender way he had looked at her,
+and her bold words of passion, were too vivid to be long suppressed.
+Alison's voice took a note of added scorn as she replied:
+
+"It's real shabby o' you to worry me when I have given you a straight
+answer.  I don't love you, not a bit, but there's another girl what
+does.  Go to her--go and be happy with her."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Jim, turning pale.
+
+Alison's eyes were fixed angrily on him.
+
+"Oh, I see, I can move you at last," she Said.  "You didn't think that
+I could guess, but I can.  Go to Louisa--she loves you well, and I
+don't--I never did--it was all a big mistake.  Girls like me often
+fancy they love, and then when the thing comes near they see that they
+don't; marriage is an awful thing without love--it is a sin.  Go and
+marry Louisa; she'll make you a good wife."
+
+"Alison," said Jim, "there can be only one explanation to the way you
+are going on to-day."
+
+"And what is that?" she asked.
+
+"There must be someone you like better than me."
+
+"Of course there is," said Alison, with a shrill laugh.
+
+"I love Grannie better than him.  I love Dave better," whispered the
+excited girl wildly, under her breath.
+
+"Of course there is," she repeated.  "There is nothing for opening the
+eyes like seeing your true love at last."
+
+"Then you _have_ explained matters, and I haven't a word to say,"
+answered Jim, in a haughty voice.
+
+He drew himself up,--his eyes looked straight into hers,--she shivered,
+but did not flinch; the next moment he had turned on his heels and
+walked away.
+
+He walked quickly, leaving the miserable, distracted girl alone.  He
+thought he understood at last; Alison had another lover.  Who could he
+be?  Jim had certainly never heard of anybody else.  Still, this was
+the true explanation--she had admitted as much herself.
+
+"Go to Louisa Clay--she loves you well," the angry girl had said to him.
+
+Well, why should not he go to Louisa?  Louisa was not his style, but
+she was handsome, and she had a good bit of money, and he had guessed
+long ago that she loved him.  He did not want to hear of Alison's new
+lover, and of Alison's engagement, and of Alison's marriage without
+putting some shield between himself and the bitter words that would be
+spoken, and the laugh that would be all against him.  He was proud as
+well as steadfast; he was daring as well as true.  If Alison could give
+him up as she had done, why should he not take the lesser good?  It was
+true that Louisa had admitted, or almost admitted, her engagement to
+Sampson, which was really the wedding poor Jim had alluded to on
+Christmas Eve; but Jim knew that matters were not settled in that
+direction yet, and he was too angry just now not to feel a keen desire
+to cut Sampson out.  He went straight, therefore, to the Clays' house.
+His heart was just in that sort of tempest of feeling when men so often
+take a rash step and lay up misery for themselves for the whole of
+their remaining days.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Clay were out, but Louisa was at home; she had a cold, and
+had not cared to venture out in the raw December air.  Jim was shown
+into a snug little parlor at the back of the shop.  Louisa was
+becomingly dressed, and looked remarkably handsome.  She started with
+pleasure when she saw Jim, colored up to her eyes, and then noticing
+something which she had never noticed before in his glance, looked
+down, trembling and overcome.  At that moment her love made her
+beautiful.  Jim saw it trembling on her lips.  The reaction between her
+warmth and Alison's frozen manner was too much for him; he made a
+stride forward, and the next moment had taken her in his arms; his
+kisses rested on her lips.  She gave a sigh of ineffable bliss.
+
+"Oh, Jim!" she said, "has it come to this?  Am I to have my heart's
+desire after all?"
+
+"If I am your heart's desire, you can have me, and welcome," answered
+Jim.
+
+"Oh, Jim!  I love you so much.  I am the happiest gel in all the world.
+Kiss me again, do.  Oh, how I love you!"
+
+"My dear girl," said the young man.
+
+He did not say yet that he loved her back again, but his heart was
+beating high.  At that moment he was not proof against her beauty,
+which in its own way was remarkable.
+
+"Then we're engaged," she said.  "Oh, Jim, is it true that such
+happiness is come to me?  I feel sort o' frightened.  I never, never
+thought that such good could come to me."
+
+"We're engaged, that is if we can be straight and above-board,"
+answered Jim; "but first I must know what about Sampson.  He has asked
+you to be his wife, hasn't he?"
+
+"Yes, yes.  Oh, don't trouble about him.  Sit close to me, can't you,
+and kiss me again."
+
+"I must know about Sampson first," said Jim.  "Have you given him a
+promise?"
+
+"Not yet, I don't love him a bit, you see; but when I thought you'd
+never come forward, and that all your heart was given to Alison
+Reed----"
+
+Jim shuddered and drew himself away from Louisa.
+
+"I thought," she continued, "that George Sampson would be better than
+nobody, so I told him he might come for his answer to-night, and he'll
+get it too.  He always knew that I loved yer.  Why, he even said so.
+He said to me, not a week ago, 'You can't win him, Louisa, so don't
+waste your breath on him, but come to an honest fellow what loves yer,
+and who don't think nothing of any other gel.'"
+
+"But doesn't it seem hard on the honest fellow?" said Jim, with a smile.
+
+"Oh, no, it don't!  Do you think I'd look at him after what you have
+said?  Oh, I'm so happy!  Sit by me, and tell me when you first thought
+of throwing over Alison Reed for me?"
+
+"Listen," said Jim.  "There is nothing now between Alison and me.  I'll
+try to make you a good mate; I will try to do everything to make you
+happy, and to give you back love for love; but if you value our future
+happiness, you must make me a promise now."
+
+"What's that?" she asked, looking up at him, frightened at the
+solemnity in his tone.
+
+"You must never talk of Alison to me.  Promise, do you hear?"
+
+"Oh, why not?  You can't care for her a bit, or you wouldn't come to
+me."
+
+"I like you most--I wouldn't ask you to marry me if I didn't; but I
+won't talk of Alison.  If you can't have me without bringing up her
+name, say so at once, and everything shall be at an end between us.
+Now you have got to choose.  Alison's name is not to pass yer lips to
+me.  We are not to talk of her, do you understand?  Do you promise?"
+
+"I promise anything--anything, if you will only kiss me again."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+The next day it was all over the place that Jim Hardy and Louisa Clay
+were engaged.  Harry heard the news as he was coming home from doing a
+message for Grannie; Grannie heard it when she went shopping; Alison
+heard it from the boy who sold the milk--in short, this little bit of
+tidings of paramount interest in Alison's small world was dinned into
+her ears wherever she turned.  Jim was engaged.  His friends thought
+that he had done very well for himself, and it was arranged that the
+wedding was to take place just before Lent.  Lent would fall early this
+year, and Jim's engagement would not last much over six weeks.
+
+Notwithstanding all she had said the day before, Alison turned very
+pale when the cruel news came to her.
+
+"What can it mean?" said Grannie, who followed the girl into her
+bedroom.  "I don't understand it--there must be an awful mistake
+somewhere.  You can't, surely, have thrown over a good fellow like
+that, Alison?"
+
+"No, he threw me over," said Alison.
+
+"Child, I jest don't believe yer."
+
+"All right, Grannie; I'm afraid I can't help it whether you believe me
+or not.  Jim is dead to me now, and we won't talk of him any more.
+Grannie dear, let us go into the kitchen; you and I have something else
+to attend to.  What is to come o' me?  What am I to do for myself now
+that I can't get a situation for want of a character, and now that I
+have lost my young man?"
+
+Alison laughed in a bitter way as she said the last words.  She looked
+straight out of the window, and avoided meeting Grannie's clear blue
+eyes.
+
+"I must get something to do," said Alison.  "I am young, and strong,
+and capable, and the fact of having a false charge laid to my door
+can't mean surely that I am to starve.  I must get work, Grannie; I
+must learn to support myself and the children.  Oh, and you, you dear
+old lady; for you can't do much, now that your 'and is so bad."
+
+"It do get worse," said Grannie, in a solemn voice; "it pains and burns
+awful now and then, and the thumb and forefinger are next to
+useless--they aint got any power in 'em.  'Taint like my usual luck,
+that it aint.  I can't understand it anyhow.  But there, child, for the
+Lord's sake don't worry about an old body like me.  Thank the Lord for
+his goodness, I am at the slack time o' life, and I don't want no
+thought and little or no care.  I aint the p'int--it's you that's the
+p'int, Ally--you and the chil'en."
+
+"Well, what is to be done, grandmother?  It seems to me that we have
+not a day to lose.  We never could save much, there was too great a
+drag on your earnings, and mine seemed swept up by rent and twenty
+other things, and now neither you nor I have been earning anything for
+weeks.  We can't have much money left now, have we?"
+
+"We have got one pound ten," said Grannie.  "I looked at the purse this
+morning.  One pound ten, and sevenpence ha'penny in coppers; that's
+all.  That wouldn't be a bad sum if there was anythink more coming in;
+but seeing as ther' aint, it is uncommon likely to dwindle, look at it
+from what p'int you may."
+
+"Well, then, we haven't an hour to lose," said Alison.
+
+"We haven't an hour to lose," repeated Grannie.  She looked around the
+little room; her voice was cheerful, but there was a dreary expression
+in her eyes.  Alison noticed it.  She got up and kissed her.
+
+"Don't, child, don't; it aint good to move the feelin's when things is
+a bit rough, as they are now.  We have got to be firm, Alison, and we
+have got to be brave, and there aint no manner o' use drawing on the
+feelin's.  Keep 'em under, say I, and stand straight to your guns.
+It's a tough bit o' battle we're goin' through, but we must stand to
+our guns, that's wot I say."
+
+"And I too," said the girl, stiffening herself under the words of
+courage.  "Well now, I know you are a very wise woman, Grannie; what's
+to be done?"
+
+"I am going to see Mr. Williams, that old clergyman in Bayswater wot
+was so good to me when my husband died.  I am going to see him
+to-morrow," said Grannie.  "Arter I have had a good spell of talk with
+him, I'll tell you more."
+
+"Do you think he could get me a situation?"
+
+"Maybe he could."
+
+"I wish you would go to him at once, Grannie.  There really doesn't
+seem to be a day to be lost."
+
+"What's the hour, child?  I don't mind going to him now, but I thought
+it might be a bit late."
+
+"Not at all; you'll see him when he comes home to dinner.  Shall I go
+with you?  Somehow I pine for a change and a bit of the air."
+
+"No, darlin', I'd best see him by myself, and then there's the bus fare
+to consider; but ef you'd walk with me as far as St. Paul's Churchyard,
+I'd be much obleeged, and you can see me into the bus.  I am werry
+strong, thank the Lord; but somehow, when the crowd jostle and push,
+they seem to take my nerve off--particular since this 'and got so bad."
+
+Grannie went into her little room to get ready for her expedition, and
+Alison also pinned on her hat and buttoned on her pilot-cloth jacket.
+Grannie put on her best clothes for this occasion.  She came out
+equipped for her interview in her neat black shawl and little quilted
+bonnet.  The excitement had brought a bright color to her cheeks and an
+added light to her blue eyes.
+
+"Why, Grannie, how pretty you look," said her granddaughter.  "I
+declare you are the very prettiest old lady I ever saw."
+
+Grannie was accustomed to being told that she was good-looking.  She
+drew herself up and perked her little face.
+
+"The Phippses were always remarked for their skins," she said;
+"beautiful they was, although my poor mother used to say that wot's
+skin-deep aint worth considering.  Still, a good skin is from the Lord,
+and he gave it to the Phippses with other good luck; no mistake on that
+p'int."
+
+The next moment the two set out.  It was certainly getting late in the
+day, but Alison cheered Grannie on, repeating several times in a firm
+and almost defiant manner that there was not an hour to be lost.  They
+got to St. Paul's Churchyard, and Alison helped Grannie to get into an
+omnibus.  The old woman got a seat near the door, and smiled and nodded
+brightly to her granddaughter as the bus rolled away.  Alison went back
+very slowly to her home.  She had a terrible depression over her, and
+longed almost frantically for something to do.  All her life she had
+been a very active girl.  No granddaughter of Mrs. Reed's was likely to
+grow up idle, and Alison, almost from the time she could think, had
+been accustomed to fully occupy each moment of her day.  Now the long
+day dragged, while despair clutched at her heart.  What had she done?
+What sin had she committed to be treated so cruelly?  Grannie was
+religious; she was accustomed to referring things to God.  There was a
+Rock on which her spirit dwelt which Alison knew nothing about.  Now,
+the thought of Grannie and her religion stirred the girl's heart in the
+queerest way.
+
+"I don't do any good," she said to herself; "seems as if the Lord
+didn't care for poor folks, or he wouldn't let all this sort of thing
+come on me.  It aint as if I weren't always respectable; it aint as if
+I didn't always try to do what's right.  Then there's so much bad luck
+jist now come all of a heap: Grannie's bad hand, which means the loss
+of our daily bread, and this false accusation of me, and then my losing
+Jim.  Oh, dear, that's the worst part, but I won't think of that now, I
+won't.  I feel that I could go mad if I thought much of that."
+
+When Alison returned to the flat in Sparrow Street it was in time to
+get tea for the children.  The little larder was becoming sadly bare;
+the Christmas feast was almost all eaten up, and Alison could only
+provide the children with very dry bread, and skim milk largely diluted
+with water.
+
+"Grannie wouldn't treat us like that," said Kitty, who was extremely
+fond of her meals.
+
+"You may be thankful if you even get dry bread soon," said Alison.
+
+The three little girls stared up at her with wondering, terrified eyes.
+Her tone was very morose.  They saw that she was unapproachable, and
+looked down again.  They ate their unpalatable meal quickly, and in
+silence.  Alison kept the kettle boiling on the fire against Grannie's
+return.
+
+"You haven't taken any tea yourself," said Polly, who was Alison's
+room-fellow, and the most affectionate of the three.
+
+"I aint hungry, dear; don't notice it," said the elder sister in a
+somewhat gentler tone.  "Now you may run, all of you, and have a play
+in the court."
+
+"But it's quite dark, and Grannie doesn't like us to be out in the
+dark."
+
+"I don't think she'll mind when I tell her that I gave you leave.  I
+have a splitting headache and must be alone for a bit.  It is a dry
+night, and the three of you keep close together, and then you'll come
+to no harm.  There, run off now, and don't bother me."
+
+Kitty stared hard at her sister; Polly's eyes flashed with pleasure at
+the thought of a bit of unexpected fun; Annie was only too anxious to
+be off.  Soon Alison had the little kitchen to herself.  She sat by the
+fire, feeling very dull and heavy; her thoughts would keep circulating
+round unpleasant subjects: the one pound ten and sevenpence halfpenny
+which stood between the family and starvation; Jim and Louisa--Louisa's
+face full of triumph, and her voice full of pride, and Jim's devotion
+to her; Grannie's painful right hand, and the feather-stitching which
+she, Alison, had never taken the trouble to learn.
+
+"The old lady was right," she said, half under her breath, half aloud.
+"She's a deal wiser than me, and I might have done worse that follow
+her advice.  I wish I knew the stitch now; yes, I do.  Oh! is that you,
+Dave?" as her brother came in; "but we have done tea."
+
+"I have had some," said David.  "Mr. Watson called me into his room,
+and gave me a cup.  What is it, Ally; what's the matter?"
+
+"You needn't ask," said Alison.  "You don't suppose I am likely to be
+very cheerful just now."
+
+"I am ever so sorry," said the boy.  "I can't think how this trouble
+come to you."
+
+"If it's Jim," she answered angrily, "you needn't worry to find out,
+for I'll tell you.  I don't love him no more.  He would have married me
+if I cared to have him, but I didn't see my way to it.  Now let's drop
+the subject."
+
+David sat down not far from the fire.  He held out his hands to the
+blaze.  There was a sort of pleased excitement about him which Alison
+after a time could not help noticing.
+
+"You look quite perky about something," she said.  "It is good for any
+of us to be cheerful just now.  What's up?"
+
+"Where's Grannie?" said Dave.  "I'd like to tell her first."
+
+"Oh, very well, just as you please.  But she is out.  She won't be back
+for a good bit yet."
+
+"Aint it very late for her to be out?  Where is she gone?"
+
+"To Bayswater--to talk to a clergyman who used to befriend us in the
+old days.  What is your news, David?  You may as well tell me."
+
+"Why, it's this.  Mr. Watson has just had a long talk with me.  He
+wants me to help him with the accounts, and not to do messages any
+more.  He could get a lad for messages, he says, who hasn't got such a
+head on his shoulders as I have.  I can do bookkeeping pretty well, and
+he'll give me some more lessons.  I am to start next week doing
+office-work, and he'll give me five shillings a week instead of half a
+crown.  I call that prime; don't you, Alison?"
+
+"To be sure it is," she answered heartily.  She was very fond of David,
+and the note of exultation in his voice touched her, and penetrated
+through the deep gloom at her heart.
+
+"Why, this will cheer Grannie," she continued.
+
+"There's more to tell yet," continued David, "for I am to have my meals
+as well as the five shillings a week; so there'll be half a crown at
+the very least to put to the family purse, Alison, and I need be no
+expense, only just to sleep here.  I'll bring the five shillings to
+Grannie every Saturday night, and she can spend just what I want for
+clothes and keep the rest.  I guess she'll make it go as far as
+anybody."
+
+"This is good news," continued Alison.  "Of course five shillings is a
+sight better nor nothing, and if I only got a place we might keep the
+home together."
+
+"Why, is there any fear of our losing it?" asked David.
+
+"Dear me, David, can we keep it on nothing at all?  There's Grannie not
+earning sixpence, and there's me not earning sixpence; and how is the
+rent to be paid, and us all to be kept in food and things?  It aint to
+be done--you might have the common sense to know that."
+
+"To be sure I might," said David, his brow clouding.  "After all, then,
+I don't suppose the five shillings is much help."
+
+"Oh, yes, it will support you whatever happens, and that's a good deal.
+Don't fret, Dave; you are a right, good, manly fellow.  You will fight
+your way in the world yet, and Grannie and me we'll be proud of you.  I
+wish I had half the pluck you have; but there, I am so down now that
+nothing seems to come right.  I wish I had had the sense to learn that
+feather-stitching that you do so beautifully."
+
+David colored.
+
+"I aint ashamed to say that I know it," he said.  "I dare say I could
+teach it to you if you had a mind to learn it."
+
+But Alison shook her head.
+
+"No; it's too late now," she said.  "It takes months and months of
+practice to make a stitch like that to come to look anything like
+right, and we want the money at once.  We have got scarcely any left,
+and there's the rent due on Monday, and the little girls want new
+shoes--Kitty's feet were wringing wet when she came in to-day.  Oh,
+yes, I don't see how we are to go on.  But Grannie will tell us when
+she comes back.  Oh, and here she is."
+
+Alison flew to the door and opened it.  Mrs. Reed, looking bright and
+excited, entered.
+
+"Why, where are the little ones?" she said at once.  "Aint they reading
+their books, like good children?"
+
+"No, Grannie.  I'd a headache, and I let them go into the court to play
+a bit.  You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"Not for once, I don't," said Grannie; "but, Dave, lad, you'd better
+fetch 'em in now, for it's getting real late.  They may as well go
+straight off to bed, for I have a deal I want to talk over with you two
+to-night."
+
+Alison felt impatient and anxious; she could scarcely wait to hear
+Grannie's news.  The old lady sat down near the fire, uttering a deep
+sigh of relief as she did so.
+
+"Ally, my dear," she said, "I'm as weary as if I were seventy-eight
+instead of sixty-eight.  It's a long walk back from St. Paul's
+Churchyard, and there was a crowd out, to be sure; but it's a fine
+starlight night, and I felt as I was walking along, the Lord's in his
+heaven, and there can never be real bad luck for us, his servants, what
+trusts in him."
+
+Alison frowned.  She wished Grannie would not quote Scripture so much
+as she had done lately.  It jarred upon her own queer, perverse mood;
+but as she saw the courageous light in the blue eyes she suppressed an
+impatient sigh which almost bubbled to her lips.  She got tea for
+Grannie, who drank it in great contentment.  David brought the children
+in.  They kissed Grannie, and were hustled off to bed, rather to their
+own disgust, and then David, Grannie, and Alison sat gravely down, and
+looked each at the other.
+
+"Where's Harry?" said Grannie suddenly.  "Why aint the boy to home?"
+
+"I expect he's at the Boys' Club," said David.  "He's very fond of
+running round there in the evening."
+
+"There's no harm in that, Grannie," said Alison.  "Don't fret about
+Harry.  Now tell us your news, do.  Did you see Mr. Williams, and can
+he do anything?"
+
+"I saw Mr. Williams," said Grannie.  "He remembered me quite well.  I
+told him everything.  It seems to me that he has put things straight.
+I don't say that things aint sore--no, I don't go to pretend they
+aint--but somehow they seem straightened out a bit, and I know wot to
+do."
+
+"And what's that, Grannie?" asked David, taking her left hand very
+tenderly in his as he spoke.
+
+Grannie had been leaning back in a sort of restless attitude.  Now she
+straightened herself up and looked keenly at the boy.
+
+"It means, lad," she said, after a pause, "the sore part means this,
+that we must give up the little bit of a home."
+
+"We must give it up?" said David, in a blank sort of way.  "Oh, wait a
+while; you don't know about my five shillings a week."
+
+"Dave has got a rise," interrupted Alison.  "Mr. Watson thinks a sight
+of him, and he's to go into the house as a clerk, and he's to have five
+shillings a week and his meals.  So he's provided for."
+
+"But your five shillings a week won't keep up the home, Dave, so
+there's no use thinking of it, from that p'int o' view."
+
+"Go on, please, Grannie; what else have you and Mr. Williams arranged?"
+
+"It's the Lord has arranged it, child," said Grannie, "it aint Mr.
+Williams.  It's that thought that makes me kind o' cheerful over it."
+
+"But what is it, Grannie?  We are to give up the home?"
+
+"Well, the home gives us up," said Grannie, "for we can't keep the
+rooms ef we can't pay the rent, and the children can't be fed without
+money.  To put it plain, as far as the home goes, we're broke.  That's
+plain English.  It's this 'and that has done it, and I'll never believe
+in eddication from this time forward; but there's no use goin' back on
+that now.  Thank the Lord, I has everything settled and clear in my
+mind.  I pay the last rent come Monday, and out we go."
+
+"But where to?" said Alison.  "There's a lot of us, and we must live
+somewhere."
+
+"It's all settled, and beautiful too," said Grannie.  "Mr. Williams
+knows a lady who 'll be right glad to have you, Alison.  The lady is a
+friend of his, and she wants a sort of upper maid, and though you are a
+Phipps and a Simpson and a Reed all in one, you needn't be too proud to
+do work o' that sort.  He said she was quite certain to take to you,
+and you are to go to see her to-morrow morning.  She lives in
+Bayswater, and wants a girl who will attend on her and go messages for
+her and keep her clothes in order.  It will be a very light, genteel
+sort o' place, and you'll have a right good time there, Alison.  And
+then the three little girls.  Mr. Williams said it was wonderful lucky
+I called to-day, for he has got three vacancies for a school for orphan
+children in the country, and for a wonder he don't know any special
+orphan children to give them to this time, and he says that Kitty and
+Polly and Annie can go, and they'll be well fed, and well taught, and
+well clothed, and when they are old enough they'll go to service
+perhaps.  Anyhow, they'll be taught how to earn their living.  So they
+are settled for, and so are you, and it seems as if David's settled for
+too.  As to Harry, I told Mr. Williams all about him, and he says he'll
+think what he can do; he expects he can get him taken on somewhere, for
+he is a smart lad, although a bit wild in his ways."
+
+"But what is to come of you, Grannie?" said Alison, after a long pause.
+
+Grannie jumped up when Alison made this remark.
+
+"Well, I'm goin' on a visit," she said, "jest to freshen me up.  It
+don't matter a bit about me--life is slacking down with me, and there
+aint the least cause to worry.  I'm goin' on a visit; don't you fret,
+children."
+
+"But where to?" asked Alison.  "You don't know anybody.  I have never
+heard that you had any friends.  The Phippses and the Simpsons are all
+dead, all those you used to know."
+
+"I'm goin' to some friends of Mr. Williams," said Grannie, "and I'll be
+werry comfortable and I can stay as long as I like.  Now, for the
+Lord's sake don't begin to fret 'bout me; it's enough to anger me ef
+you do.  Aint we a heap to do atween this and Monday without fussin'
+over an old lady wot 'as 'ad the best o' good luck all her days?  This
+is Tuesday, and you are to go and see Mrs. Faulkner to-morrow morning,
+Alison.  I have got her address, and you are to be there by ten
+o'clock, not a minute later.  Oh, yes, our hands will be full, and we
+have no time to think o' the future.  The Lord has the future in his
+grip, chil'en, and 'taint for you and me to fret about it."
+
+Grannie seated herself again in her old armchair.
+
+"Fetch the Bible, Dave," she said suddenly, "and read a verse or two
+aloud."
+
+David rose to comply.  He took the family Bible from its place on the
+shelf.  Grannie opened the old book reverently.
+
+"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide
+under the shadow of the Almighty," read David.
+
+Grannie looked solemnly at the boy while the words so familiar and
+comforting fell from his lips.  He read or to the end of the
+magnificent Psalm.
+
+"I guess there's a power of luck in that hidin' place for them as can
+find it," she said, when he had finished.
+
+Then she kissed the boy and girl and went abruptly away to her own room.
+
+"What does she mean by going on a visit?" said David to his sister.
+
+"I don't know," said Alison fearfully.
+
+"It can't be----" began David.
+
+"No, no; don't say it, Dave," interrupted Alison.   "Don't say it
+aloud, don't----"  She clapped her hands suddenly to his lips.  "I
+can't bear it," she said suddenly.  "I won't hear it.  No, it's a
+visit.  It's all true; it's only a visit.  Good-night, Dave."
+
+She went away to her own room.  During the darkness and misery of that
+night Alison scarcely slept; but old Grannie slept.  God had given his
+angels charge of her, and no one ever had more peaceful slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+Monday came all too quickly.  Grannie was very masterful during the few
+days which went before.  She insisted on all the grandchildren doing
+exactly what she told them.  There were moments when she was almost
+stern; she had always been authoritative, and had a certain commanding
+way about her.  This week, even Alison did not dare to cross her in the
+smallest matter.  There was not a single hitch in the arrangements
+which Mr. Williams had sketched out.  Mrs. Faulkner took a great fancy
+to Alison, absolutely believed in her honesty and truth, and engaged
+her for a month's trial on the spot.  She told her to be sure to be
+with her by ten o'clock on Monday to begin her new duties.  Grannie
+went herself to see Mr. Watson; she had a private talk with him which
+no one knew anything about.  He told her that David was a boy in a
+hundred, that he was certain to do well, for he was both clever and
+conscientious.  He said that he could easily manage to fit up a bed for
+him in the back part of the shop; so he was provided for, and,
+according to Grannie and Mr. Watson, provided for well.  When Harry
+heard of the family's exodus, he left the house without a word.  He
+came back in the course of two or three hours, and told Mrs. Reed what
+he had done.
+
+"I am going to sea," he announced.  "I saw the captain of the _Brigand_
+down at the West India Docks, and he'll take me as cabin boy.  I dare
+say the life is a bit rough, but I know I shall like it.  I have always
+been so keen for adventure.  I am off to-morrow, Grannie; so I am out
+of the way."
+
+Grannie kissed the boy between his straight brows, looked into his
+fearless, dancing, mischievous eyes, and said a word or two which he
+never forgot.  She sent him off the next morning with the best wardrobe
+she could muster, half a crown in his pocket, and her blessing ringing
+in his ears.
+
+"'Taint much; it's a rough life, but it's the best that could be done,"
+she said to Alison.  "Ef he keeps straight he'll have good luck, for
+it's in the breed," she continued; then she resumed her preparations
+for the little girls.
+
+They went away on Saturday, and Alison, David, and Grannie had Sunday
+to themselves.  It was a sort of day which Alison could never talk of
+afterward.  It ought to have been very miserable, but it was not; there
+was a peace about it which comforted the much-tried girl, and which she
+often hugged to her heart in some of the dark days which were close at
+hand.
+
+"Now, chil'en," said Grannie, on the evening of that day, "you two will
+please go off early in the morning and leave me the last in the old
+house."
+
+"But mayn't we see you as far as the railway station?" said Alison.
+
+"No, my love, I prefer not," was the response.
+
+"But won't you tell us where you are going, Grannie?" said David.  "It
+seems so queer for us to lose sight of you.  Don't you think it a bit
+hard on us, old lady?"
+
+Grannie looked very earnestly at David.
+
+"No," she said, after a pause, "'taint hard, it's best.  I am goin' on
+a wisit; ef it aint comfortable, and ef the Lord don't want me to stay,
+why I won't stay; but I'd rayther not speak o' it to-night.  You must
+let me have my own way, Dave and Alison.  We are all suited for, some
+in one way and some in t'other, but I'd rayther go away to-morrow with
+jest the bit of fun of keeping it all to myself, at least for a time."
+
+"Is it in the country, Grannie?" said Alison.
+
+"I'm told it's a fine big place," replied Grannie.
+
+"And are they folks you ever knew?"
+
+"They're friends o' Mr. Williams," said Grannie, shutting up her lips.
+"Mr. Williams knows all about 'em.  He says I can go to see you often;
+'taint far from town.  You won't really be very far from me at all.
+But don't let us talk any more about it.  When a woman comes to my time
+o' life, ef she frets about herself she must be a mighty poor sort, and
+that aint me."
+
+Monday morning dawned, and Grannie had her way.  Alison and David both
+kissed her, and went out into the world to face their new duties.  They
+were not coming back any more to the little home.  Grannie was alone.
+
+"I haven't a minute to waste," she said to herself after they had gone,
+bustling about as she spoke.  "There's all the furniture to be sold
+now.  The auctioneer round the corner said he would look in arter the
+chil'en were well out o' the way.  Oh, I dare say I shall have heaps of
+time to fret by and by, but I ain't agoin' to fret now; not I.
+There'll be a nice little nest-egg out of the furniture, which Mr.
+Williams can keep for Alison; and ef Alison gets on, why, 'twill do for
+burying me when my time comes.  I think a sight of having a good
+funeral; the Lord knows I want to be buried decent, comin' of the breed
+I do; but there, I've no time to think of funerals or anything else
+now.  I had to be masterful this week to 'em darlin's, but 'twas the
+only thing to do.  Lor' sakes!  Suppose they'd begun fussing over me,
+what would have become of us all?"
+
+At this moment there came a knock at the door.  Grannie knew who it
+was.  It was the agent who came weekly, Monday after Monday, to collect
+the rent.
+
+"Here's your rent, Mr. Johnson," said Grannie, "and I  hope you'll get
+another tenant soon.  It was a right comfortable little flat, and we
+all enjoyed ourselves here.  We haven't a word to say agen our
+landlord, Mr. Johnson."
+
+"I am very sorry to lose you as a tenant, Mrs. Reed," said Mr. Johnson,
+giving the bright-eyed little woman a puzzled glance.  "If there is
+anything in my power----"
+
+"No, there aint!  No, there aint!" said Grannie, nodding.  "We has made
+fresh arrangements in the fam'ly, and don't require the rooms any
+longer.  I'll have the furniture out by twelve o'clock to-day, sir, and
+then the rooms will be washed out and tidied.  A neighbor downstairs
+has promised to do it.  Will you please tell me where I shall leave the
+key?"
+
+"You may leave it with Mrs. Murray on the next flat," said Mr. Johnson.
+"Well, I am sorry to lose you as a tenant, Mrs. Reed, and if ever you
+do want to settle down in a home again, please let me know, and I'll do
+my very best to provide you with a comfortable one."
+
+"I 'spect I won't have to pay no rent for my next home," said Grannie
+softly, under her breath, as she turned away from the door.  "Oh, Lord,
+to think that you're gettin' a mansion in the sky ready for an old body
+like me, and no rent to pay neither!  Dear Lord, to think it is getting
+ready for me now!  I am about as happy an old woman as walks--that I
+am."
+
+Grannie felt the religion which was part and parcel of her life
+extremely uplifting that morning.  It tided her safely over an hour so
+dark that it might have broken a less stout heart.  The auctioneer came
+round and priced the furniture.  Every bit of that furniture had a
+history.  Part of it belonged to the Reeds, part to the Phippses, and
+part to the Simpsons.  It was full of the stories of many lives; but,
+as Grannie said to herself, "I'll have heaps of time by and by to fret
+about the eight-day clock, and the little oak bureau under the window,
+and the plates, and cups, and dishes, and tables; I need not waste
+precious minutes over 'em now."
+
+So the auctioneer, who somehow could not cheat those blue eyes, offered
+a fair price for the little "bits o' duds," and by twelve o'clock he
+sent round a cart and a couple of men to carry them away.  The flat was
+quite bare and empty before Grannie finally locked the hall door and
+took the key down to Mrs. Murray.
+
+Mrs. Murray was very fond of Grannie, and was extremely inclined to be
+inquisitive; but if ever Mrs. Reed had been on her full dignity it was
+this morning.  She spoke about the good luck of the children in having
+found such comfortable homes, said that household work was getting a
+little too much for her, and that now she was going away on a visit.
+
+"To the country, ma'am?" said Mrs. Murray.  "It is rather early for the
+country jest yet, aint it?"
+
+"It is to a very nice part, suitable to the season," replied Grannie,
+setting her lips firmly.  "I'm always in luck, and I'm in my usual good
+luck now in findin' kind friends willin' and glad to have me.  I will
+wish you 'good-day' now, ma'am; I mustn't keep my friends waiting."
+
+"But won't you have a cup of tea afore you go, for you really look
+quite shaky?" said Mrs. Murray, who noticed that Grannie's left hand
+shook when she laid the key of the lost home on the table.
+
+"No, no, ma'am.  I expect to have tea with my friends," was the reply.
+"Thank you kindly, I am sure, Mrs. Murray, and I wish you well, ma'am."
+
+Mrs. Murray shook hands with Grannie and looked at her kindly and
+affectionately as she tripped down the winding stairs for the last time.
+
+Grannie wore her black silk bonnet, and her snow-white kerchief, and
+her neat little black shawl, and her white cotton gloves.  Her
+snow-white hair was as fluffy as usual under the brim of her bonnet,
+and her eyes were even brighter, and her cheeks wore a deeper shade of
+apple bloom about them.  Perhaps some people, some keen observers,
+would have said that the light in the eyes and the bloom on the cheeks
+were too vivid for perfect health; but, as it was, people only remarked
+as they saw her go down the street, "What a dear, pretty old lady!
+Now, _she_ belongs to some of the provident, respectable poor, if you
+like."  People said things of that sort as Grannie got into the omnibus
+presently, and drove away, and away, and away.  They did not know, they
+could not possibly guess, what Grannie herself knew well, that she was
+only a pauper on her way to the workhouse.  For Mrs. Reed had kept her
+secret, and the keeping of that secret was what saved her heart from
+being broken.  Mr. Williams had used influence on her behalf, and had
+got her into the workhouse of a parish to which she had originally
+belonged.  It was in the outskirts of London, and was, he said, one of
+the best and least severe of the class.
+
+"Provided the children don't know, nothing else matters," thought
+Grannie over and over, as she approached nearer and nearer to her
+destination.  "I am just determined to make the best of it," she said
+to herself, "and the children need never know.  I shall be let out on
+visits from time to time, and I must keep up the story that I am
+staying with kind friends.  I told Mr. Williams what I meant to do, and
+he didn't say it were wrong.  Lord, in thy mercy help me to keep this
+dark from the children, and help me to remember, wherever I am, that I
+was born a Phipps and a Simpson.  Coming of that breed, nothing ought
+to daunt me, and I'll live and die showing the good stock I am of."
+
+The omnibus set Grannie down within a quarter of a mile of her
+destination.  She carried a few treasures tied up in a silk
+handkerchief on her left arm, and presently reached the big gloomy
+gates of the workhouse.  Mr. Williams had made all the necessary
+arrangements for her, and she was admitted at once.  A male porter,
+dressed in hideous garb, conducted her across a courtyard to a
+bare-looking office, where she was asked to sit down.  After a few
+minutes the matron appeared, accompanied by a stoutly built woman, who
+called herself the labor matron, and into whose care Grannie was
+immediately given.  She was taken away to the bath-room first of all.
+There her own neat, pretty clothes were taken from her, and she was
+given the workhouse print dress, the ugly apron, the hideous cap, and
+the little three-cornered shawl to wear.
+
+"What's your age?"  asked the matron.
+
+"Sixty-eight, ma'am," replied Grannie.
+
+"Let me see; surely there is something wrong with that hand."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," replied Grannie solemnly; "it is the hand that has
+brought me here.  I was good at needlework in my day, ma'am, but 'twas
+writing as did it."
+
+"Writing! did you write much?" asked the matron.
+
+"No, ma'am, only twice a year at the most, but even them two letters
+cost me sore; they brought on a disease in the hand; it is called
+writers' cramp.  It is an awful complaint, and it has brought me here,
+ma'am."
+
+The labor matron looked very hard at Grannie.  She did not understand
+her words, nor the expression on her brave face.  Grannie by no means
+wore the helpless air which characterizes most old women when they come
+to the workhouse.
+
+"Well," she said, after a pause, "hurry with your bath; you needn't
+have another for a fortnight; but once a fortnight you must wash here.
+At your age, and with your hand so bad, you won't be expected to do any
+manual work at all."
+
+"I'd rayther, ef you please, ma'am," said Grannie.  "I'm not accustomed
+to settin' idle."
+
+"Well, I don't see that you can do anything; that hand is quite past
+all use, but perhaps the doctor will take a look at it to-morrow.  Now
+get through that bath, and I'll take you to the room where the other
+old women are."
+
+"Good Lord, keep me from thinkin' o' the past," said Grannie when the
+door closed behind her.
+
+She got through the bath and put on her workhouse dress, and felt, with
+a chill all through her little frame, that she had passed suddenly from
+life to death.  The matron came presently to fetch her.
+
+"This way, please," she said, in a tart voice.  She had treated Grannie
+with just a shadow of respect as long as she wore her own nice and
+dainty clothes, but now that she was in the workhouse garb, she looked
+like any other bowed down little woman.  She belonged, in short, to the
+failures of life.  She was hurried down one or two long passages, then
+through a big room, empty at present, which the matron briefly told her
+was the "Able-bodied Women's Ward," and then into another very large
+room, where a bright fire burnt, and where several women, perhaps fifty
+or sixty, were seated on benches, doing some light jobs of needlework,
+or pretending to read, or openly dozing away their time.  They were all
+dressed just like Grannie, and took little or no notice when she came
+in.  She was only one more failure, to join the failures in the room.
+These old women were all half dead, and another old woman was coming to
+share their living grave.  The matron said something hastily, and shut
+the door behind her.  Grannie looked round; an almost wild light lit up
+her blue eyes for a moment, then it died out, and she went softly and
+quietly across the room.
+
+"Ef you are cold, ma'am, perhaps you'll like to set by the fire," said
+an old body who must have been at least ten years Grannie's senior.
+
+"Thank you, ma'am, I'll be much obleeged," said Grannie, and she sat
+down.
+
+Her bath had, through some neglect, not been properly heated; it had
+chilled her, and all of a sudden she felt tired, old, and feeble, and a
+long shiver ran down her back.  She held out her left hand to the
+blaze.  A few of the most active of the women approached slowly, and
+either stood and looked at her, or sat down as near her as possible.
+She had very lately come from life; they were most of them accustomed
+to death.  Their hearts were feebly stirred with a kind of dim
+interest, but the life such as Grannie knew was dull and far off to
+them.
+
+"This is a poor sort of place, ma'am," said one of them.
+
+Grannie roused herself with a great effort.
+
+"Ef I begin to grumble I am lost," she said stoutly to herself.  "Well,
+now, it seems to me a fine airy room," she said.  "It is all as it
+strikes a body, o' course," she added, very politely; "but the room
+seems to me lofty."
+
+"You aint been here long, anybody can see that," said an old woman of
+the name of Peters, with a sniff.  "Wait till you live here day after
+day, with nothin' to do, and nothin' to think of, and nothin' to hear,
+and nothin' to read, and, you may say, nothin' to eat."
+
+"Dear me," said Grannie, "don't they give us our meals?"
+
+"Ef you like to _call_ 'em such," said Mrs. Peters, with a sniff.  And
+all the other women sniffed too.  And when Mrs. Peters emphasized her
+condemnation of the food with a groan, all the other old women groaned
+in concert.
+
+Grannie looked at them, and felt that she had crossed an impassable
+gulf.  Never again could she be the Grannie she had been when she awoke
+that morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+It was bitterly cold weather when Grannie arrived at the workhouse.
+Not that the workhouse itself was really cold.  Its sanitary
+arrangements were as far as possible perfect; its heating arrangements
+were also fairly good.  Notwithstanding the other old women's groans,
+the food was passable and even nourishing, and beyond the fact that
+there was an absence of hope over everything, there were no real
+hardships in the great Beverley workhouse.  There were a good many old
+women in this workhouse--in fact, two large wards full--and these were
+perhaps the most melancholy parts of the establishment.  They slept on
+clean little narrow beds in a huge ward upstairs.  There was a
+partition about eight feet high down the middle of this room.  Beds
+stood in rows, back to back, at each side of this partition; beds stood
+in rows along the walls; there were narrow passages between the long
+rows of beds.  The room was lighted with many windows high up in the
+walls, and there was a huge fireplace at either end.  By a curious
+arrangement, which could scarcely be considered indulgent, the fires in
+very cold weather were lit at nine o'clock in the morning, after the
+paupers had gone downstairs, and put out again at five in the
+afternoon.  Why the old creatures might not have had the comfort of the
+fires when they were in their ward, it was difficult to say, but such
+was the rule of the place.
+
+Grannie's bed was just under one of the windows, and when she went
+upstairs the first night, the chill, of which she had complained ever
+since she had taken her bath, kept her awake during the greater part of
+the hours of darkness.  There were plenty of blankets on her little
+bed, but they did not seem to warm her.  The fact is, there was a great
+chill at her heart itself.  Her vitality was suddenly lowered; she was
+afraid of the long dreary future; afraid of all those hopeless old
+women; afraid of the severe cleanliness, the life hedged in with
+innumerable rules, the dinginess of the new existence.  Her faith
+burned dim; her trust in God himself was even a little shaken.  She
+wondered why such a severe punishment was sent to her; why she, who
+wrote so little, should get a disease brought on by writing.  It seemed
+all incomprehensible, unfathomable, too dark for any ordinary words, or
+any ordinary consolation to reach.
+
+For the first time in her life she forgot her grandchildren, and the
+invariable good luck of the family, and thought mostly about herself.
+Toward morning she fell into a troubled doze, but she had scarcely
+seemed to drop asleep before a great bell sounded, which summoned her
+to rise.  It was just six o'clock, and, at this time of the year, pitch
+dark.  The long ward was now bitterly cold, and Grannie shivered as she
+got into her ugly workhouse dress.  The other old women rose from their
+hard beds with many "ughs" and groans, and undercurrents of grumbling.
+Grannie was much too proud to complain.  They were all dressed by
+five-and-twenty past six, and then they went downstairs in melancholy
+procession, and entered the dining-hall, where their breakfast,
+consisting of tea, bread and margarine, was served to them.  When
+breakfast was over they went upstairs to the ground floor, and Grannie
+found herself again in the ward into which she had been introduced the
+night before.
+
+The women who could work got out their needlework, and began to perform
+their allotted tasks in a very perfunctory manner.  Grannie's fingers
+quite longed and ached for something to do.  She was sent for presently
+to see the doctor, who examined her hand, said it would never be of any
+use again, ordered a simple liniment, and dismissed her.  As Grannie
+was returning from this visit, she met the labor matron in one of the
+corridors.
+
+"I wish you would give me something to do," she said suddenly.
+
+"Well, what can you do?" asked the matron.  "Has the doctor seen your
+hand?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And what does he say to it?"
+
+"He says it will never be any better."
+
+"Never be any better!"  The labor matron fixed Grannie with two rather
+indignant eyes.  "And what are you wasting my time for, asking for
+work, when you know you can't do it?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I think I can, ma'am--that is, with the left hand.  I cannot
+do needlework, perhaps, but I could dust and tidy, and even polish a
+bit.  I have always been very industrious, ma'am, and it goes sore agen
+the grain to do nothin'."
+
+"Industrious indeed!" muttered the matron.  "If you had been
+industrious and careful, you wouldn't have found your way here.  No,
+there is no work for you, as far as I can see.  Some of the able-bodied
+women do out the old women's ward; it would never do to trust it to an
+incapable like yourself.  There, I can't waste any more time with you."
+
+The matron hurried away, and Grannie went back to her seat by the fire,
+in the company of the other old women.  They were curious to know what
+the doctor had said to her, and when she told them they shook their
+heads and groaned, and said they all knew that would be the case.
+
+"No one _h_advanced in life gets better here," said Mrs. Peters; "and
+you are _h_advanced in life, aint you, ma'am?"
+
+"Not so very," replied Grannie indignantly.  She felt quite young
+beside most of the other old paupers.
+
+"Well now, I calc'late you're close on eighty," said Mrs. Peters.
+
+"Indeed, you are mistook," replied Grannie.  "I aint seventy yet.  I'm
+jest at the age when it is no expense at all to live, so to speak.  I
+were sixty-eight last November, and no one can call that old.  At least
+not to say very old."
+
+"You look seventy-eight at the very least," said most of the women.
+They nodded and gave Grannie some solemn, queer glances.  They all saw
+a change in her which she did not know anything about herself.  She had
+aged quite ten years since yesterday.
+
+The one variety in the old women's lives was their meals.  Dinner came
+at half-past twelve, and supper at six.  All the huge old family went
+up to bed sharp at eight.  There could not possibly be a more dreary
+life than theirs.  As the days passed on, Grannie recovered from her
+first sense of chill and misery, and a certain portion of her brave
+spirit returned.  It was one of the rules of the workhouse that the
+pauper women of over sixty might go out every Sunday from half-past
+twelve to six.  They might also go out for the same number of hours on
+Thursday.  Those who were in sufficiently good health always availed
+themselves of this outing, and Grannie herself looked forward quite
+eagerly to Sunday.  She scarcely slept on Saturday night for thinking
+of this time of freedom.  She had obtained permission to wear her own
+neat dress, and she put it on with untold pride and satisfaction on
+this Sunday morning.  Once again some of the spirit of the Simpsons and
+Phippses came into her.  She left the workhouse quite gayly.
+
+"I feel young again," she murmured to herself as she heard the ugly
+gates clang behind her.
+
+She walked down the road briskly, took an omnibus, and by and by found
+herself at Bayswater.  She had asked Alison to wait in for her, telling
+the girl that she might be able to pay her a little visit on Sunday.
+When she rang, therefore, the servants' bell at Mrs. Faulkner's
+beautiful house, Alison herself opened the door.
+
+Alison looked handsomer than ever in her neat lady's-maid costume.
+
+"Oh, Grannie," she exclaimed.  "It is good for sore eyes to see you.
+Come in, come in.  You can't think how kind Mrs. Faulkner is.  She says
+I'm to have you all to myself, and you are to stay to dinner, and David
+is here; and the housekeeper (I have been telling the housekeeper a lot
+about you, Grannie) has given us her little parlor to dine in, and Mrs.
+Faulkner is out for the day.  Oh, we'll have quite a good time.  Come
+downstairs at once, dear Grannie, for dinner is waiting."
+
+"Well, child, I am pleased to see you so spry," said Grannie.  Her
+voice felt quite choking when she entered the big, luxurious house.
+"I'll be able to keep it up fine," she murmured to herself.  "Lor', I'm
+a sight better; it was the air of that place that was a-killin' me.
+I'll keep it up afore the chil'en, and ef I can manage to do that, why
+bless the Lord for all his mercies."
+
+David was waiting in the housekeeper's room when Grannie got
+downstairs.  Grannie had never known before what a power of comfort
+there was in David's strong young step, and the feel of his firm
+muscular arms, and the sensation of his manly kiss on her cheek.
+
+"Aye, Dave," she said, "I'm a sight better for seeing you, my lad."
+
+"And I for seeing you," replied the boy.  "We have missed Grannie,
+haven't we, Ally?"
+
+"Don't talk of it," said Alison, tears springing to her blue eyes.
+
+"Well, we're all together again now," said Grannie.  "Bless the Lord!
+Set down each side of me, my darlin's, and tell me everything.  Oh, I
+have hungered to know, I have hungered to know."
+
+"Mine is a very good place," said Alison.  "Mrs. Faulkner is most kind."
+
+"And ef it weren't for thinking of you, Grannie, and missing you," said
+David, "why, I'd be as happy as the day is long."
+
+"But tell us about yourself, dear Grannie," said Alison.  "How do you
+like the country, and are Mr. Williams' friends good to you?"
+
+"Real good! that they are," said Grannie.  "Why, it's a beautiful big
+place."
+
+"They are not poor folks, then?" said David.
+
+"Poor!" said Grannie.  "I don't go for to deny that there are some poor
+people there, but they as owns the place aint poor.  Lor' bless yer,
+it's a fine place.  Don't you fret for me, my dearies.  I'm well
+provided for, whoever aint."
+
+"But how long are you to stay?" said David.  "You can't always be on a
+visit with folks, even if they are the friends of Mr. Williams."
+
+"Of course I can't stay always," said Grannie, "but Mr. Williams has
+arranged that I am to stay for a good two or three months at least, and
+by then, why, we don't know what 'll turn out.  Now, chil'en, for the
+Lord's sake don't let us waste time over an old body like me.  Didn't I
+tell you that I have come to the time o' life when I aint much 'count?
+Let's talk of you, my dearies, let's talk of you."
+
+"Let's talk of dinner first," said David.  "I'm mighty hungry, whoever
+aint."
+
+The dinner served in Mrs. Faulkner's housekeeper's room was remarkably
+nourishing and dainty, and Grannie enjoyed the food, which was not
+workhouse food, with a zest which surprised herself.  She thought that
+she had completely thrown her grandchildren off the scent, and if that
+were the case, nothing else mattered.  When dinner was over the sun
+shone out brightly, and Alison and David took Grannie out for a walk.
+They went into Kensington Gardens, which were looking very bright and
+pretty.  Then they came home, and Grannie had a cup of tea, after which
+she rose resolutely and said it was time for her to go.
+
+"I will see you back," said David, in a determined voice.  "I have
+nothing else to do.  I don't suppose those friends of Mr. Williams who
+are so good to you would mind me coming as far as the door."
+
+"Yes, they would," said Grannie, "they wouldn't like it a bit."
+
+"Now, Grannie, that's all nonsense, you know," said the young man.
+
+"No it aint, my lad, no it aint.  You've just got to obey me, David, in
+this matter.  I know what I know, and I won't be gainsaid."
+
+Grannie had suddenly put on her commanding air.
+
+"I am on a visit with right decent folks--people well-to-do in the
+world, wot keep up everything in fine style--and ef they have fads
+about relations comin' round their visitors, why shouldn't they?
+Anyhow, I am bound to respect 'em.  You can't go home with me, Dave,
+but you shall see me to the 'bus, ef you like."
+
+"Well," said Dave, a suspicious, troubled look creeping up into his
+face, "that's all very fine, but I wish you wouldn't make a mystery of
+where you are staying, dear Grannie."
+
+"I don't want to," said Grannie.  "It's all Mr. Williams.  He has been
+real kind to me and mine, and ef he wants to keep to himself what his
+friends are doing for me, why shouldn't I obleege him?"
+
+"Why not, indeed?" said Alison.  "But are you sure you are really
+comfortable, Grannie?"
+
+"And why shouldn't I be comfortable, child?  I don't look
+uncomfortable, do I?"
+
+"No, not really, but somehow----"
+
+"Yes, I know what you mean," interrupted David.
+
+"Somehow," said Alison, "you look changed."
+
+"Oh, and ef I do look a bit changed," said the old woman, "it's cause
+I'm a-frettin' for you.  Of course I miss you all, but I'll get
+accustomed to it; and it's a beautiful big place, and I'm in rare luck
+to have got a 'ome there.  Now I must hurry off.  God bless you, my
+dear!"
+
+Alison stood on the steps of Mrs. Faulkner's house, and watched Grannie
+as she walked down the street.  The weather had changed, and it was now
+bitterly cold; sleet was falling, and there was a high wind.  But
+Grannie was leaning on Dave's arm, and she got along bravely.
+
+"I don't like it," said Alison to herself, as she went into the house.
+"Grannie's hiding something; I can't think what it is.  Oh, dear, oh
+dear, how I wish Jim had been true to me.  If he only had, we would
+have made a home for Grannie somehow.  Grannie is hiding something.
+What can it be?"
+
+Meanwhile David saw Grannie to the omnibus, where he bade her an
+affectionate "good-by."  She arranged to come again to see her
+grandchildren on the following Sunday if all was well.
+
+"But ef I don't come, don't you fret, Dave, boy," was her last word to
+the lad.  "Ef by chance I don't come, you'll know it's because it aint
+quite convenient in the family I'm staying with.  Now, good-by, Dave.
+Bless you, lad."
+
+The omnibus rolled away, and Grannie snuggled back into her corner.
+Her visit to her grandchildren had cheered her much, and she thought
+that she could very well get through a dreary week in the workhouse
+with that beacon post of Sunday on ahead.  She would not for the world
+trouble the children on work-a-day Thursday, but on Sunday she might as
+a rule get a sight of them.
+
+"And they suspect nothin', thank the good Lord!" she said, hugging her
+secret to her breast.
+
+She left the omnibus at the same corner where she had left it on the
+previous Monday.
+
+The weather meanwhile had been changing for the worse; snow was now
+falling thickly, and the old woman had no umbrella.  She staggered
+along, beaten and battered by the great tempest of wind and snow.  At
+first she stepped on bravely enough, but by and by her steps grew
+feeble.  The snow blinded her eyes and took away her breath, it
+trickled in little pools down into her neck, and seemed to find out all
+the weak parts of her dress.  Her thin black shawl was covered with
+snow; her bonnet was no longer black, but white.  Her heart began to
+beat at first too loudly, then feebly; she tottered forward, stumbling
+as one in a dream.  She was cold, chilled through and through;
+bitterly, bitterly cold.  Suddenly, without knowing it, she put her
+foot on a piece of orange-peel; she slipped, and the next moment lay
+prone in the soft snow.  Her fall took away her last remnant of
+strength; try as she would, she found she could not rise.  She raised
+her voice to call for assistance, and presently a stout laboring man
+came up and bent over the little prostrate woman.
+
+"Let me help you to get up, ma'am," he said politely.
+
+He caught hold of her swollen right hand.  The sudden pain forced a
+sharp scream from her lips.
+
+"Not that hand, please, sir; the other," she said.  She put out her
+left hand.
+
+"Nay, I'll lift you altogether," he said.  "Why, you are no weight at
+all.  Are you badly hurt, ma'am?"
+
+"No, no, it's nothin'," said Grannie, panting, and breathing with
+difficulty.
+
+"And where shall I take you to?  You can't walk--you are not to attempt
+it.  Is your home anywhere near here, ma'am?"
+
+In spite of all her pain and weakness, a flush of shame came into the
+old cheeks.
+
+"It is nigh here, very nigh," said Grannie, "but it aint my home; it's
+Beverley workhouse, please, sir."
+
+"All right," said the man.  He did not notice Grannie's shame.
+
+The next moment he had pulled the bell at the dreary gates, and Grannie
+was taken in.  She was conveyed straight up to the infirmary.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+It wanted but a week to Jim Hardy's wedding day.  Preparations were in
+full swing, and the Clays' house was, so to speak, turned topsy-turvy.
+Jim was considered a most lucky man.  He was to get five hundred pounds
+with his bride.  With that five hundred pounds Louisa proposed that Jim
+should set up in business for himself.  He and she would own a small
+haberdasher's shop.  They could stock it well, and even put by a
+nest-egg for future emergencies.  Jim consented to all her proposals.
+He felt depressed and unlike himself.  In short, there never was a more
+unwilling bridegroom.  He had never loved Louisa.  She had always been
+repugnant to him.  In a moment of pique he had asked her to marry him,
+and his repentance began half an hour after his engagement.  Still he
+managed to play his part sufficiently well.  Louisa, whose passion for
+him increased as the days went on, made no complaint; she was true to
+her promise, and never mentioned Alison's name, and the wedding day
+drew on apace.  The young people's banns had already been called twice
+in the neighboring church, the next Sunday would be the third time, and
+the following Thursday was fixed for the wedding.  Jim came home late
+one evening tired out, and feeling more depressed than usual.  A letter
+was waiting for him on the mantelpiece.  He had already given notice to
+quit his comfortable bedroom.  He and Louisa were to live for a
+time--until they had chosen their shop and furnished it--with the
+Clays.  This arrangement was very disagreeable to Jim, but it did not
+occur to him to demur; his whole mind was in such a state of collapse
+that he allowed Louisa and her people to make what arrangements they
+pleased.
+
+"There's a letter for you upstairs," said his landlady, as he hurried
+past her.
+
+The young man's heart beat fast for a moment.  Could Alison by any
+chance have written to him?  He struck a light hastily and looked at
+the letter, which was lying on his table.  No, the handwriting was not
+Alison's, and when he opened it the first thing he saw was a check,
+which fell out.
+
+
+"My Dear Nephew [ran the letter], I hope this finds you well, as it
+leaves me.  You must be a well-grown lad now, and, in short, have come
+to full man's estate.  I have done well in Australia, and if you like
+to join me here, I believe I can put you in the way of earning a good
+living.  I inclose a draft on the City Bank, London, for one hundred
+pounds, which will pay your passage and something over.  If you like to
+come, you will find me at the address at the head of this paper.  I am
+making lots of money, and if you have a head on your shoulders, you can
+help me fine in my business.  If you don't care to come, you may use
+the money to start housekeeping when you marry; but if you are wise you
+will take my advice.
+
+  "Your affectionate uncle,
+    "JAMES HARDY."
+
+
+Jim fingered the check, and looked absently before him.
+
+"Why shouldn't I get clear out of the whole business?" he said.  "I
+could leave the country to-morrow with this money, and go out and join
+Uncle James, and make my fortune by and by.  Why should I stick to
+Louisa when I hate her?  It's all over with Alison and me.  Oh, Alison,
+how could you love another fellow when I loved you so well, and was so
+true to you?  I can't understand it--no, I can't.  I don't believe for
+a moment that she was telling me the truth the other day--why, there is
+no other fellow.  I have made inquiries and I can't hear of anyone.  It
+isn't as if hundreds wouldn't want her, but she is keeping company with
+no one.  I believe it was an excuse she made; there's a mystery at the
+bottom of it.  Something put her out, and she was too proud to let me
+see what it was.  And, oh dear, why was I so mad as to propose marriage
+to a girl like Louisa Clay?  Yes; why shouldn't I get quit of the thing
+to-night?  I have the money now.  I can take Uncle James's advice
+to-night; why shouldn't I do it?"
+
+Jim stood straight up as these thoughts came to him.  He slipped the
+foreign letter into his pocket, walked with a long stride to the
+window, flung the sash open, and looked out into the night.
+
+"I can't do it," he muttered; "it isn't in me to be an out-and-out
+scoundrel.  She is not the girl I want, but I have promised her, and I
+must stick to it; all the same, I am a ruined man.  Oh, if Alison had
+only been true to me."
+
+"Now, old chap, what are you grumbling to yourself for?" said a voice
+just behind him.
+
+He turned abruptly and met the keen-eyed, ferret-looking face of the
+detective Sampson.  Sampson and Jim had not been very friendly lately,
+and Jim wondered now in a vague sort of way why his quondam friend had
+troubled himself to visit him.
+
+"Sit down, won't you?" he said abruptly.  "There's a chair."
+
+"I'll shut the door first," said Sampson.  "I have got a thing or two
+to say to you, and you may as well hear me out.  You aint behaved
+straight to me, Jim; you did a shabby thing behind my back; but, Lor'
+bless you, ef it's saved me from a gel like Louisa Clay, why, I'll be
+obleeged to you to the end of my days.  Look here, I was very near
+committing myself with that girl.  'Twasn't that I loved her, but I
+don't go for to deny that she was good-looking, and she certainly did
+tickle my fancy considerable, and then when I thought of the tidy bit
+of silver that she would have from her father, I made up my mind that
+she would be a good enough match for me; but mind you, I never thought
+her straight--I never yet was mistook in any character I ever studied
+carefully.  I couldn't follow out my calling if I did, Jim, old chap;
+and that you know well."
+
+"I don't suppose you could, George," said Jim; "but I think it only
+fair to tell you before you go a step further, that I am engaged to
+Louisa, and I can't hear her run down by anyone now.  So you may as
+well know that first as last."
+
+"Engaged or not," said Sampson, with curious emphasis, "you have got to
+hear a thing or two about Louisa Clay to-night."
+
+"If it is bad, I won't hear it," said Jim, clenching his big hand.
+
+"Then you are a greater fool than I took you for; but, look here,
+you've got to listen, for it concerns that other girl, the girl you
+used to be so mad on, Alison Reed."
+
+Jim's hands slowly unclenched.  He turned round and fixed his great
+dark eyes with a kind of hungry passion in them on Sampson's face.
+
+"If it has anything to do with Alison I am bound to hear it," he said.
+
+"Then you love her still?" said Sampson, in surprise.
+
+"Love her!" replied Jim; "aye, lad, that I do.  I am near mad about
+her."
+
+"And yet you are going to marry Louisa Clay."
+
+"So it seems, George, so it seems; but what's the good of talking about
+what can't be cured?  Alison has thrown me over, and I am promised to
+Louisa, and there's an end of it."
+
+"Seems to me much more like that you have thrown Alison over," said
+Sampson.  "Why, I was in the room that night of the play-acting, and I
+saw Alison Reed just by the stairs, looking as beautiful as a picter,
+and you come up with that other loud, noisy gel, and you talked to her
+werry affectionate, I must say.  I heard what she said to you--that
+there wasn't a thing in heaven above, or in earth beneath, she wouldn't
+do for you.  Maybe Alison heard them words too; there's no saying.  I
+was so mad at what I thought Louisa's falsehood to me, that I cut the
+whole concern fast enough.  Well, that's not what I have come to talk
+on to-night; it is this: I think I have traced the theft of that
+five-pound note straight home at last."
+
+"You haven't?" said Jim.  "Oh, but that's good news indeed; and Alison
+is cleared?"
+
+"She is; but I don't see how it is good news to you, for the theft is
+brought home to the gel what is to be your wife in less than a week."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Hardy.  "I always said you were too sharp on Louisa.
+She aint altogether to my taste, I am bound to confess, although I have
+promised her marriage; but she's not a thief.  Come, now, you cannot
+get me to believe she's as bad as that."
+
+"You listen to me, Hardy, and stay quiet," said Sampson.  "I can put
+what I know in a few words, and I will.  From the very first I
+suspected Louisa Clay.  She was jealous of Alison, and had a motive for
+tryin' to do her a bad turn.  She was over head and ears in love with
+you, as all the world could see.  That, when I saw her first, I will
+own, I began to think as she'd be a good mate for myself, and it come
+over me that I wouldn't push the inquiry any further.  It might be well
+to know a secret about your wife, to hold over her in case she proved
+troublesome by'm-by.  I am not a feller with any high notions, as
+perhaps you have guessed--anyhow, I let the thing drop, and I went in
+for Louisa for the sake of her money.  When she threw me over so sharp,
+you may suppose that my feelings underwent a head-to-tail sort of
+motion, and I picked up the clew pretty fast again, and worked on it
+until I got a good thread in my hand.  I needn't go into particulars
+here about all I did and all I didn't do, but I managed first of all to
+pick up with Shaw, your master.  I met him out one evening, and I told
+him that I knew you, and that you were in an awful taking because your
+gel, Alison Reed, was thought to have stolen a five-pound note.  He
+talked a bit about the theft, and then I asked him if he had the number
+of the note.  He clapped his hand on his thigh, and said what a fool he
+was, but he had never thought of the number until that moment.  He had
+looked at it when he put the note in the till as he supposed, and by
+good luck he remembered it.  He said off to me what he believed it was,
+and I entered it in my notebook.
+
+"'I have you now, my fine lady,' I said to myself, and I went off and
+did a little bit of visiting in the smartest shops round, and by and by
+I heard further tidings of the note.  It had been changed, two days
+after it had been stolen, by a young woman answering to Louisa Clay in
+all particulars.  When things had come as far as that, I said to
+myself----
+
+"'Ef there is a case for bluff, this is one.  I'll just go and wring
+the truth from Louisa before she is an hour older.'
+
+"So I went to see her only this morning.  I blarneyed her a bit
+first--you know my style--and then I twitted her for being false to me,
+and then I got up a sort of pretense quarrel, and I worked on her
+feelings until she got into a rage, and when she was all hot and
+peppery, I faced right round on her, and charged her with the theft.
+
+"'You stole that five-pound note from the till in Shaw's shop,' I said,
+'and you let Alison Reed be charged with it.  I know you stole it, so
+you needn't deny it.  The number of the note was, one, one, one, seven.
+I have it written here in my note-book.  I traced the note to Dawson's,
+round the corner, and they can swear, if necessary, in a court of
+justice, that you gave it to them in exchange for some yards of black
+silk.  By the way, I believe that is the very identical silk you have
+on you this minute.  Oh, fie, Louisa! you are a bad 'un.'
+
+"She turned white as one of them egg-shell china cups, and she put her
+hands before her eyes, and her hands shook.  And after a bit she said:
+
+"'Oh, George, don't have me locked up, and I'll tell you everything."
+
+"'Well, you'll have to put it in writing,' I said, 'or I won't have a
+crumb of mercy on you.'
+
+"So I got the story out of her, Jim.  It seems the note had never been
+dropped into the till at all, but had fallen on the floor just by the
+manager's desk, and Louisa had seen it and picked it up, and she
+confessed to hoping that Alison would be charged with it.  Here's her
+confession in this envelope, signed and witnessed and all.  So now, you
+can marry her come Thursday ef you like."
+
+Sampson got up and stretched himself as he spoke.
+
+Jim's face, which had turned from red to white, and from white again to
+crimson, during this brief narrative, was now stern and dark.
+
+"I am obliged to you, Sampson," he said, after a pause.
+
+"What will you do?" asked the detective, with some curiosity.  "I see
+this is a bit of a blow, and I am not surprised; but what will you do?"
+
+"I can't tell.  I must think things over.  Do you say you have the
+confession in your pocket?"
+
+"Yes; in my breast pocket.  Here is the envelope sticking out above my
+coat."
+
+"Give it to me," said Jim, stretching out his big hand.
+
+"Not I.  That's my affair.  I can make use of this.  Why, I could hold
+a thing of this sort over the head of your fair bride, and blackmail
+her, if necessary."
+
+"No, no, Sampson; you are not a ruffian, of that sort."
+
+George Sampson suddenly changed his manner.
+
+"As far as you are concerned, Jim, I am no ruffian," he said.  "To tell
+the plain truth, I have always liked yer, and I'll act by you as
+straight as a die in this matter.  If you never do anything else,
+you've saved me from being the husband of that gel, and I'll be
+thankful to you for it to my dying day.  But for the Lord's sake, don't
+you put yourself into the noose now.  You can't be so mad, surely."
+
+"Leave me for to-night, Sampson," said Jim in a voice of entreaty.  "I
+can't say anything, I must think.  Leave me for to-night."
+
+The detective got up slowly, whistled in a significant manner, and left
+the room.
+
+"Now, if Jim Hardy is quixotic enough to marry Louisa Clay after what I
+have said, I'll never speak to a good man again as long as I live," he
+muttered.
+
+But Jim Hardy had not made up his mind how to act at all; he was simply
+stunned.  When he found himself alone he sank down on a chair close to
+his little center table, put his elbows on the table, and buried his
+head in his big hands.  The whole bewildering truth was too much for
+him.  He was honest and straight himself, and could not understand
+duplicity.  Louisa's conduct was incomprehensible to him.  What should
+he do now?  Should he be true to one so false?  This question began
+dimly to struggle to obtain an answer in his mind.  He had scarcely
+begun to face it, when a knock at the door, and the shrill voice of his
+landlady calling out, "I have got a letter for you, Mr. Hardy, you are
+in favor with the post to-night," reached him.
+
+He walked across the room, opened the door, and took the letter from
+the landlady's hand.  She gave him a quick, curious glance; she saw
+shrewdly enough that something was worrying him.
+
+"Why do he go and marry a girl like that Clay creature?" she muttered
+to herself as she whisked downstairs.  "I wouldn't have her if she had
+double the money they say he's to get with her."
+
+Jim meanwhile stared hard at the writing on his letter.  It was in
+Louisa Clay's straggling, badly formed hand.  He hastily tore open the
+envelope, and read the brief contents.  They ran as follows:
+
+
+"DEAR JIM,--I dare say you have heard something about me, and I don't
+go for to deny that that something is true.  I was mad when I did it,
+but, mad or sane, it is best now that all should be over between you
+and me.  I couldn't bear to marry you, and you knowing the truth.  Then
+you never loved me--any fool could see that.  So I am off out of
+London, and you needn't expect to see me any more.
+
+  "Yours no longer,
+    "LOUISA CLAY."
+
+
+Jim's first impulse when he had read this extraordinary and unexpected
+letter was to dance a hornpipe from one end of the room to the other;
+his next was to cry hip, hip, hurrah in a stentorian voice.  His last
+impulse he acted upon.  He caught up his hat and went out as fast as
+ever he could.  With rapid strides he hurried through the crowded
+streets, reached the Bank, and presently found himself on the top of an
+omnibus which was to convey him to Bayswater.  He was following his
+impulse with a beating heart, eyes that blazed with light, and lips
+that trembled with emotion.  He had been a prisoner tied fast in chains
+of his own forging.  All of a sudden he was free.  Impulse should have
+its way.  His heart should dictate to him in very earnest at last.
+With Louisa's letter and his uncle's letter in his pocket, he presently
+reached the great house where Mrs. Faulkner lived.  He had often passed
+that house since Alison had gone to it, walking hungrily past it at
+dead of night, thinking of the girl whom he loved but might never win;
+now he might win his true love after all--he meant to try.  His
+triumphant steps were heard hurrying down the pavement.  He pulled the
+servants' bell and asked boldly for Alison.
+
+"Who shall I say?" asked the kitchen-maid who admitted him.
+
+"Say Jim Hardy, and that my message is urgent," was the reply.
+
+The girl, who was impressed by Jim's goodly height and breadth, invited
+him into the housekeeper's parlor, where Alison joined him in a few
+minutes.  Her face was like death when she came in; her hand shook so
+that she could scarcely hold it out for Jim to clasp.  He was master,
+however, on this occasion--the averted eyes, the white face, the
+shaking hand were only all the more reasons why he should clasp the
+maiden he loved to his heart.  He strode across the room and shut the
+door.
+
+"Can we be alone for a few minutes?" he said.
+
+"I suppose so, Jim, if--if it is necessary," said Alison.
+
+"It is necessary.  I have something to say."
+
+Alison did not reply.  She was trembling more than ever.
+
+"I have got to say this," said Jim: "I am off with Louisa Clay.  We're
+not going to be married.  I don't want her, I never wanted her, and now
+it seems that she don't want me.  And, Alison, you are cleared of that
+matter of the five-pound note."
+
+"Cleared?" said Alison, springing forward, and her eyes lighting up.
+
+"Yes, darlin', cleared," said Jim boldly.  "I always knew you were as
+innocent as the dawn, and now all the world will know it.  Sampson,
+good fellow, ferreted out the truth, and it seems--it seems that Louisa
+is the thief.  Sampson can give you all particulars himself to-morrow;
+but I have come here now to talk on a matter of much more importance.
+I have always loved you, Alison, from the first day I set eyes on you.
+From that first moment I gave you all my heart; my life was yours, my
+happiness yours, and all the love I am capable of.  In an evil hour a
+shadow came atween us; I was mad at losing you, and I asked Louisa to
+wed me; but though I'd 'a' been true to her--for a promise is a
+promise--I'd have been the most miserable man what ever lived, for my
+heart would have been yours.  I'd have committed a sin, an awful sin,
+but, thank God, I am saved from that now.  Louisa herself has set me
+free.  There's her letter; you can read it if you want to."
+
+Jim pulled it out of his pocket, and thrust it before Alison's dazzled
+eyes.
+
+"No, no!" she said, pushing it from her; "your word is enough.  I don't
+want to see the letter."
+
+She hid her face in her shaking hands.
+
+"I was always true to you," continued Jim, "in heart at least; and now
+I want to know if there is any reason why you and me should not be wed
+after all.  I have got money enough, and I can wed you and give you a
+nice home as soon as ever the banns are read, and there'll be a corner
+for Grannie too, by our fireside.  Come, Alison, is there any reason,
+any impediment? as they say in the marriage service.  There aint really
+any other feller, is there, Ally?  That was a sort of way to cheat me,
+Ally; wasn't it, darlin'?"
+
+"Oh, Jim, yes, yes," cried Alison.  "I always loved you with all my
+heart.  I loved you more than ever the day I gave you up, but I was
+proud, and I misunderstood, and--and--oh, I can say no more; but I love
+you, Jim, I love you.  Oh, my heart is like to burst, but it is all
+happiness now, for I love you so well--so true--so very, very dearly."
+
+"Then that's all right," he answered solemnly.  He took her into his
+arms there and then and held her fast to his beating heart.  They
+kissed each other many times.
+
+Alison and Jim were married, and Grannie went to live with them.  She
+was indispensable to the brightness of their home, and even more
+indispensable to the success of their little shop; for Grannie had a
+natural turn for business, and if her eyes were the kindest in all the
+world, they were also the sharpest to detect the least thing not
+perfectly straight in those with whom she had to deal.  So the shop,
+started on thoroughly business principles, flourished well.  And the
+young pair were happy, and the other children by and by made a good
+start in the world, and Grannie's face beamed more and more lovingly as
+the years went on, but never to her dying day did she reveal the secret
+of her visit to the workhouse.
+
+"It was the one piece of bad luck in all my happy life," she was wont
+to murmur to herself, then she would smile and perk up her little
+figure.  "Lord knows, I needn't ha' been frighted," she would add;
+"comin' o' the breed of the Phippses and Simpsons, I might ha' known it
+wouldn't last--the luck o' the family bein' wot it is."
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+THE FLOWERS' WORK
+
+"See, mother!  I've finished my bouquet.  Isn't it beautiful?  More so,
+I think, than those made by the florist which he asked two dollars for,
+and this has cost me but seventy-five cents."
+
+"Yes, yes, it is very pretty.  But, dear me, child, I cannot help
+thinking how illy we can spare so much for such a very useless thing.
+Almost as much as you can make in a day it has cost."
+
+"Don't say _useless_, mother.  It will express to Edward our
+appreciation of his exertions and their result, and our regards.  How
+he has struggled to obtain a profession!  I only wish I could cover the
+platform with bouquets, baskets and wreaths tonight, when he receives
+his diploma."
+
+"Well, well; if it will do any good, I shall not mind the expense.
+But, child, he will know it is from you, and men don't care for such
+things coming from home folks.  Now, if it was from any other young
+lady, I expect he'd be mightily pleased."
+
+"Oh, mother, I don't think so.  Edward will think as much of it, coming
+from his sister-in-law, as from any other girl.  And it will please
+Kate, too.  If _we_ do not think enough of him to send him bouquets,
+who else could?  Rest easy, mother, dear; I feel quite sure my bouquet
+will do much good," answered Annie, putting her bouquet in a glass of
+water.
+
+She left the room to make her simple toilet for the evening.
+
+Mrs. Grey had been widowed when her two little girls were in their
+infancy.  It had been a hard struggle for the mother to raise her
+children.  Constant toil, privation and anxiety had worn heavily on her
+naturally delicate constitution, until she had become a confirmed
+invalid.  But there was no longer a necessity for her toiling.  Katy,
+the elder daughter, was married; and Annie, a loving, devoted girl,
+could now return the mother's long and loving care.  By her needle she
+obtained a support for herself and mother.
+
+Katy's husband held a position under the government, receiving a small
+compensation, only sufficient for the necessities of the present, and
+of very uncertain continuance.  He was ambitious of doing better than
+this for himself, as well as his family.  So he employed every spare
+hour in studying medicine, and it was the night that he was to receive
+his diploma that my little story begins.
+
+The exercises of the evening were concluded.  Edward Roberts came down
+the aisle to where his wife and Annie were seated, bearing his
+flowers--an elegant basket, tastefully arranged, and a beautiful
+bouquet.  But it needed only a quick glance for Annie to see it was not
+_her_ bouquet.  Although the flowers were fragrant and rare, they were
+not so carefully selected or well chosen.  Hers expressed not alone her
+affection and appreciation, but _his_ energy, perseverance and success.
+
+"Why, where is my bouquet?  I do not see it," asked Annie, a look of
+disappointment on her usually bright face.
+
+"Yours?  I do not know.  Did you send me one?" returned her
+brother-in-law.
+
+"Indeed I did.  And such a beauty, too!  It is too bad!  I suppose it
+is the result of the stupidity of the young man in whose hands I placed
+it.  I told him plain enough it was for you, and your name, with mine,
+was on the card," answered Annie, really very much provoked.
+
+"Well, do not fret, little sister; I am just as much obliged; and
+perchance some poor fellow not so fortunate as I may have received it,"
+answered Edward Roberts.
+
+"Don't, for pity's sake, let mother know of the mistake, or whatever it
+is, that has robbed you of your bouquet.  She will fret dreadfully
+about it," said Annie.
+
+All that night, until she was lost in sleep, did she constantly repeat:
+
+"I wonder who has got it?"
+
+She had failed to observe on the list of graduates the name of _Edgar
+Roberts_, from Ohio, or she might have had an idea into whose hands her
+bouquet had fallen.  Her brother Edward, immediately on hearing Annie's
+exclamation, thought how the mistake had occurred, and was really glad
+that it was as it was; for the young man whose name was so nearly like
+his own was a stranger in the city, and Edward had noticed his
+receiving _one_ bouquet only, which of course was the missing one, and
+Annie's.
+
+Edgar Roberts sat in his room that night, after his return from the
+distribution of diplomas, holding in his hand Annie's bouquet, and on
+the table beside him was a floral dictionary.  An expression of
+gratification was on his pleasant face, and, as again and again his
+eyes turned from the flowers to seek their interpreter, his lips were
+wreathed with smiles, and he murmured low:
+
+"Annie Grey!  Sweet Annie Grey!  I never dreamed of any one in this
+place knowing or caring enough for me to send such a tribute.  How
+carefully these flowers are chosen!  What a charming, appreciative
+little girl she is!  Pretty, I know, of course.  I wonder how she came
+to send me this?  How shall I find her?  Find her I must, and know her."
+
+And Edgar Roberts fell asleep to dream of Annie Grey, and awoke in the
+morning whispering the last words of the night before:
+
+"Sweet Annie Grey!"
+
+During the day he found it quite impossible to fix his mind on his
+work; mind and heart were both occupied with thoughts of Annie Grey.
+And so it continued to be until Edgar Roberts was really in love with a
+girl he knew not, nor had ever seen.  To find her was his fixed
+determination.  But how delicately he must go about it.  He could not
+make inquiry among his gentlemen acquaintances without speculations
+arising, and a name sacred to him then, passed from one to another,
+lightly spoken, perhaps.  Then he bethought himself of the city
+directory; he would consult that.  And so doing he found Greys
+innumerable--some in elegant, spacious dwellings, some in the business
+thoroughfares of the place.  The young ladies of the first mentioned,
+he thought, living in fashionable life, surrounded by many admirers,
+would scarcely think of bestowing any token of regard or appreciation
+on a poor unknown student.  The next would have but little time to
+devote to such things; and time and thought were both spent in the
+arrangement of his bouquet.  Among the long list of Greys he found one
+that attracted him more than all the others--a widow, living in a quiet
+part of the city, quite near his daily route.  So he sought and found
+the place and exact number.  Fortune favored him.  Standing at the door
+of a neat little frame cottage he beheld a young girl talking with two
+little children.  She was not the blue-eyed, golden-haired girl of his
+dreams, but a sweet, earnest dove-eyed darling.  And what care he,
+whether her eyes were blue or brown, if her name were only Annie?  Oh,
+how could he find out that?
+
+She was bidding the little ones "good-bye."  They were off from her, on
+the sidewalk, when the elder child--a bright, laughing boy of
+five--sang out, kissing his little dimpled hand:
+
+"Good-bye, Annie, darling!"
+
+Edgar Roberts felt as if he would like to clasp the little fellow to
+the heart he had relieved of all anxiety.  No longer a doubt was in his
+mind.  He had found his Annie Grey.
+
+From that afternoon, twice every day he passed the cottage of the widow
+Grey, frequently seeing sweet Annie.  This, however, was his only
+reward.  She never seemed at all conscious of his presence.  Often her
+eyes would glance carelessly toward him.  Oftener they were never
+raised from her work.  Sewing by the window, she always was.
+
+What next?  How to proceed, on his fixed determination of winning her,
+if possible?
+
+Another bright thought.  He felt pretty sure she attended church
+somewhere; perhaps had a class in the Sabbath school.  So the next
+Sunday morning, at an early hour, he was commanding a view of Annie's
+home.  When the school bells commenced to ring, he grew very anxious.
+A few moments, and the door opened and the object of his thoughts
+stepped forth.  How beautiful she looked in her pretty white suit!  Now
+Edgar felt his cause was in the ascendancy.  Some distance behind, and
+on the other side of the street, he followed, ever keeping her in view
+until he saw her enter a not far distant church.  Every Sunday after
+found him an attentive listener to the Rev. Mr. Ashton, who soon became
+aware of the presence of the young gentleman so regularly, and
+apparently so much interested in the services.  So the good man sought
+an opportunity to speak to Edgar, and urge his accepting a charge in
+the Sabbath school.  We can imagine Edgar needed no great urging on
+that subject; so, frequently, he stood near his Annie.  In the library,
+while selecting books for their pupils, once or twice they had met, and
+he had handed to her the volume for which her hand was raised.  Of
+course a smile and bow of acknowledgment and thanks rewarded him.
+
+Edgar was growing happier, and more confident of final success every
+week, when an event came which promised a speedy removal of all
+difficulty in his path.  The school was going to have a picnic.  Then
+and there he would certainly have an introduction to Annie, and after
+spending a whole day with her, he would accompany her home and win the
+privilege of calling often.
+
+The day of the picnic dawned brightly, and the happy party gathered on
+the deck of the steamer.  The first person who met Edgar Roberts' eye
+was his fellow-student, Edward Roberts.  Standing beside him were two
+ladies and some children.  When Edgar hastened up to speak to his
+friend, the ladies turned, and Edward presented:
+
+"My wife; my sister, Miss Grey."
+
+Edgar Roberts could scarcely suppress an exclamation of joy and
+surprise.  His looks fully expressed how delighted he was.
+
+Three months had he been striving for this, which, if he had only known
+it, could have been obtained so easily through his friend and her
+brother.  But what was so difficult to win was the more highly prized.
+What a happy day it was!
+
+Annie was all he had believed her--charming in every way.  Edgar made a
+confidant of his friend; told him what Edward well knew before, but was
+wise enough not to explain the mistake--of his hopes and fears; and won
+from the prudent brother the promise to help him all he could.
+
+Accompanying Annie home that evening, and gaining her permission for
+him to call again, Edgar lost no time in doing so, and often repeated
+the call.
+
+Perhaps Annie thought him very fast in his wooing, and precipitate in
+declaring his love, when, after only a fortnight visiting her, he said:
+
+"Annie, do you like me well enough, and trust in me sufficiently, to
+allow me to ask your mother to call me her son?"
+
+Either so happy or so surprised was Annie, that she could not speak
+just then.  But roses crowded over her fair face, and she did not try
+to withdraw the hand he had clasped.
+
+"Say, Annie, love," he whispered.  She raised her eyes to his with such
+a strange, surprised look in them, that he laughed and said:
+
+"You think I am very hasty, Annie.  You don't know how long I've loved
+you, and have waited for this hour."
+
+"Long!--two weeks," she said.
+
+"Why, Annie, darling, it is over three months since I've been able to
+think of anything save Annie Grey--ever since the night I received my
+diploma, and your sweet, encouraging bouquet, since that night I've
+known and loved you.  And how I've worked for this hour!"
+
+And then he told her how it was.  And when he had finished, she looked
+at him, her eyes dancing merrily, and though she tried hard to keep the
+little rosebud of a mouth demurely shut, it was no use--it would open
+and let escape a rippling laugh, as she said:
+
+"And this is the work my bouquet went about, is it?  This is the good
+it has done me--"  She hesitated; the roses deepened their color as she
+continued: "And you--"
+
+"Yes, Annie, it has done much good to me, and I hope to you too."
+
+"But, Edgar--" it was the first time she had called him thus, and how
+happy it made him--"I must tell you the truth--I never sent you a
+bouquet!"
+
+"No! oh, do not say so.  Can there be another such Annie Grey?"
+
+"No; I am the one who sent the bouquet; but, Edgar, you received it
+through a mistake.  It was intended for my brother-in-law, Edward!"
+
+"Stop, Annie, a moment--  Are you sorry that mistake was made?  Do you
+regret it?" said Edgar, his voice filled with emotion.
+
+"No indeed, I am very glad you received it instead," Annie ingenuously
+replied; adding quickly, "But, please, do not tell Edward I said so."
+
+"No, no; I will not tell him that you care a little more for _Edgar_
+than _Edward_.  Is that it?  May I think so, Annie?"
+
+She nodded her head, and he caught her to his heart, whispering:
+
+"Mine at last.  My Annie, darling!  What a blessed mistake it was!  May
+I go to your mother, Annie?"
+
+"Yes; and I'll go with you, Edgar, and hear if she will admit those
+flowers did any good.  She thought it a useless expenditure."
+
+The widow Grey had become very much attached to the kind, attentive
+young man, and when he came with Annie, and asked her blessing on their
+love, she gave it willingly; and after hearing all about the way it
+happened, she said:
+
+"Never did flowers such a good work before.  They carried Edgar to
+church, made a Christian of him, and won for Annie a good, devoted
+husband, and for me an affectionate son."
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
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+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Luck, by L. T. Meade
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+The Project Gutenberg E-text of Good Luck, by Mrs. L. T. Meade
+</TITLE>
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Luck, by L. T. Meade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Good Luck
+
+Author: L. T. Meade
+
+Release Date: April 12, 2009 [EBook #28565]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOOD LUCK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H1 ALIGN="center">
+GOOD LUCK
+</H1>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+BY
+</H3>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+MRS. L. T. MEADE
+</H2>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<H4 ALIGN="center">
+Author of Polly, A Sweet Girl Graduate, Etc.
+</H4>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+M. A. DONOHUE &amp; COMPANY
+<BR>
+CHICAGO &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; NEW YORK
+<BR>
+1896
+</H3>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P>
+<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="100%">
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%">
+<A HREF="#chap01">CHAPTER I</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%">
+<A HREF="#chap02">CHAPTER II</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%">
+<A HREF="#chap03">CHAPTER III</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%">
+<A HREF="#chap04">CHAPTER IV</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%">
+<A HREF="#chap05">CHAPTER V</A>
+</TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap06">CHAPTER VI</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap07">CHAPTER VII</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap09">CHAPTER IX</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap10">CHAPTER X</A>
+</TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap11">CHAPTER XI</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap12">CHAPTER XII</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">
+<A HREF="#chap15">CHAPTER XV</A>
+</TD>
+</TR>
+
+<TR>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" COLSPAN="2">
+<A HREF="#flowers">THE FLOWERS' WORK</A>
+</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">&nbsp;</TD>
+<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top">&nbsp;</TD>
+</TR>
+
+</TABLE>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap01"></A>
+
+<H1 ALIGN="center">
+GOOD LUCK
+</H1>
+
+<BR>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER I.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Amongst the crowd of people who were waiting in the Out-Patients'
+Department of the London Hospital on a certain foggy day toward the
+latter end of November might have been seen an old cherry-cheeked
+woman.  She had bright blue eyes and firm, kindly lips.  She was a
+little woman, slightly made, and her whole dress and appearance were
+somewhat old-fashioned.  In the first place, she was wonderfully
+pretty.  Her little face looked something like a russet apple, so clear
+was her complexion and so bright and true the light in her eyes.  Her
+hair was snow-white, and rather fluffy in texture; it surrounded her
+forehead like a silver halo, adding to the picturesque effect of apple
+cheeks and deep blue eyes.  Her attire was quaint and old-fashioned.
+She wore a neat black dress, made without the least attempt at
+ornament; round her neck was a snowy kerchief of somewhat coarse but
+perfectly clean muslin; over her shoulders a little black shawl was
+folded corner-ways, and pinned neatly with a large black-headed pin at
+her breast.  A peep of the snowy handkerchief showed above the shawl;
+the handkerchief vied with the white of her hair.  On her head was a
+drawn black silk bonnet with a tiny border of white net inside.  Her
+hands were clothed in white cotton gloves.  She stood on the borders of
+the crowd, one of them, and yet apart from them, noticeable to everyone
+present by her pretty, dainty neatness, and by the look of health which
+to all appearance she possessed.  This had evidently been her first
+visit to the Out-Patients' Department.  Some <I>habitués</I> of the place
+turned and stared at her, and one or two women who stood
+near&mdash;burdened, pallid, ill-looking women&mdash;gave her a quick glance of
+envy, and asked her with a certain show of curiosity what ailed her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's my hand, dear," was the reply.  "It pains awful&mdash;right up to the
+shoulder."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's rheumatis you've got, you poor thing," said one of the women who
+had addressed her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I don't think it's exactly that," was the reply; "but the doctor
+'ll tell.  I can't hold my needle with the pain; it keeps me awake o'
+nights.  Oh, we must all have our share," she added cheerfully; "but ef
+it were the will of the Almighty, I'd rayther not have my share o' pain
+in my right hand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You does needlework fer a living, I suppose?" said a man who stood
+near.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes.  I only 'opes to the Lord that my working hand isn't going to be
+taken from me&mdash;but there, I'll soon know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She smiled brightly at these words, and addressed one of her neighbors
+with regard to the state of that neighbor's baby&mdash;the child was
+evidently suffering from ophthalmia, and could scarcely open its eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was cold in the out-patients' waiting-room, and the crowd became
+impatient and anxious, each for his or her turn to see the doctors who
+were in attendance.  At last the little woman with the white hair was
+admitted to the consulting-room.  She was shown in by a dresser, and
+found herself face to face with the doctor.  He said a few words to
+her, asked her some questions with regard to her symptoms, looked at
+the hand, touched the thumb and forefinger, examined the palm of the
+hand very carefully, and then pronounced his brief verdict.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are suffering from what is equivalent to writers' cramp, my good
+woman," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lor', sir," she interrupted, "I respec'fully think you must be
+mistook.  I never take a pen in my 'and oftener nor twice a year.  I
+aint a schollard, sir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That don't matter," was the reply; "you use your needle a good deal."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course, and why shouldn't I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How many hours a day do you work?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never count the hours, sir.  I work all the time that I've got.  The
+more I work, the more money there be, you understand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I quite understand.  Well, you must knock it off.  Here!  I shall
+order you a certain liniment, which must be rubbed into the hand two or
+three times a day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what do you mean by knocking it off, sir?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What I say&mdash;you must stop needlework.  Johnson," continued Dr. Graves,
+raising his eyes and looking at the dresser, "send in another patient."
+He rose as he spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry for you, my poor woman," he said, "but that hand is
+practically useless.  At your age, there is not the most remote chance
+of recovery.  The hand will be powerless in a few months' time,
+whatever you do; but if you spare it&mdash;in short, give it complete
+rest&mdash;it may last a little longer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And do you mean, sir, that I'm never to do sewing again?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should recommend you to knock it off completely and at once; by so
+doing you will probably save yourself a good deal of suffering, and the
+disease may not progress so rapidly&mdash;in any case, the power to sew will
+soon leave you.  Use the liniment by all means, take care of your
+health, be cheerful.  Good-morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The doctor accompanied the little woman to the door of the
+consulting-room; he opened the door for her, and bowed as she passed
+out.  He treated her almost as if she were a lady, which in very truth
+she was in every sense of the word.  But she did not notice his
+politeness, for his words had stunned her.  She walked slowly, with a
+dazed look in her eyes, through the crowd of people who were waiting to
+be admitted to the different physicians, and found herself in the open
+street.  Her name was Patience Reed, she was sixty-eight years of age,
+and was the grandmother of six orphan children.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good Lord, what do it mean?" she murmured as she walked quickly
+through the sloppy, dark, disagreeable streets.  "I'm to lose the power
+of this 'and, and I'm not to do any more needlework.  I don't believe
+it's true.  I don't believe that doctor.  I'll say nothing to Alison
+to-day.  Good Lord, I don't believe for a moment you'd afflict me in
+this awful sort of way!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She walked quickly.  She had by nature a very light and cheerful heart;
+her spirit was as bright and cheery as her appearance.  She picked up
+her courage very soon, stepped neatly through the miry, slippery
+streets, and presently reached her home.  Mrs. Reed and the six
+grandchildren lived in a model lodging-house in a place called Sparrow
+Street, off Whitechapel Road.  The house possessed all the new sanitary
+improvements, a good supply of water was laid on, the rooms were well
+ventilated, the stoves in the little kitchens burned well, the rents
+were moderate, there was nothing at all to complain of in the home.
+Mrs. Reed was such a hearty, genial, hard-working woman that she would
+have made any home bright and cheerful.  She had lived in Whitechapel
+for several years, but her work lay mostly in the West End.  She
+belonged to the old-fashioned order of needlewomen.  She could do the
+most perfect work with that right hand which was so soon to be useless.
+Machine-made work excited her strongest contempt, but work of the best
+order, the finest hand-made needlework, could be given over to her care
+with perfect satisfaction.  She had a good connection amongst the West
+End shops, and had year after year earned sufficient money to bring up
+the six orphan children comfortably and well.  Alison, the eldest girl,
+was now seventeen, and was earning her own living in a shop near by.
+David was also doing something for himself, but the four younger
+children were still dependent on Grannie.  They were all like her as
+regards high spirits, cleanliness, and a certain bright way of looking
+at life.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll not be discouraged, and I'll not believe that doctor," she
+murmured, as she mounted the long flight of stairs which led to the
+fifth floor.  "Aint I always 'ad good luck all the days o' a long
+life?"  She reached her own landing at last, panting a little for
+breath as she did so.  She opened her hall door with a latch-key and
+entered the kitchen.  The kitchen was absolutely neat, the stove shone
+like a looking-glass, the dinner was cooking in the oven, and the table
+round which the entire family were soon to dine already wore its coarse
+white cloth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There, I'm not going to murmur," said the old woman to herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went into her bedroom, took off her shawl, shook it out, folded it
+neatly, and put it away.  She took off her bonnet and dusted it, pinned
+it into an old white cambric handkerchief, and laid it beside the shawl
+on a little shelf.  Her white gloves and white handkerchief shared the
+same attention.  Then she brushed her white hair, put on a neat cap,
+and returned to the kitchen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ten minutes afterward this kitchen was full of noise, life, and
+confusion.  The four younger children had come back from Board school.
+Harry, the eldest boy, had rushed in from a bookseller's near by, and
+Alison, who served behind a counter in one of the shops in Shoreditch,
+had unexpectedly returned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison was a very tall and pretty girl.  She had dark blue eyes and an
+upright carriage; her hair was golden with some chestnut shades in it.
+She had a clear complexion like her grandmother's, and firm lips, with
+a sweet expression.  As a rule she had a cheerful face, but to-day she
+looked anxious.  Grannie gave her one quick glance, and guessed at once
+that something was troubling her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, I wonder what's up?" she thought.  "Well, I shan't burden the
+child with my troubles to-day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come," she said in a hearty voice, "sit you all down in your places.
+Kitty, my girl, say your grace.  That's right," as the child folded her
+hands, closed her eyes, raised her piping voice, and pronounced a grace
+in rhyme in a sing-song tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The moment the grace was finished a huge potato pie made its appearance
+out of the oven, and the meal&mdash;good, hearty, and nourishing&mdash;began.
+Grannie helped all the children.  She piled the daintiest bits on
+Alison's plate, watching the girl without appearing to do so as she
+played with her dinner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come, Ally, you are not eating," said Grannie.  "This will never do.
+It's a real pleasure to have you back in the middle of the day, and you
+must show it by making a good meal.  Ah, that's better.  Help your
+sister to some bread, David."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David was between fifteen and sixteen years of age, a fine well-grown
+lad.  He looked attentively at Alison, opened his lips as if to say
+something, caught a warning glance from her eyes, and was instantly
+silent.  Alison forced herself to eat some of the nourishing pie, then
+she looked full at Grannie.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By the way, Grannie," she said, "you were to see the doctor at the
+London Hospital this morning, were you not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, child; what about it?  I'll have a piece of bread, David, if you
+will cut it for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David did so.  Alison detected some concealment in Grannie's voice, and
+pursued her inquiries.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did he say?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, what didn't he say.  Nothing special&mdash;the old kind of story.  I
+never thought much of plaguing a doctor for a common sort of thing like
+this.  I'm to rub the hand with liniment three times a day.  There's
+the bottle on that shelf.  I 'spect I'll be all right in a week or a
+fortnight.  Now, children, hurry up with your dinner; you'll have to be
+off to school in less than ten minutes, so there's no time to lose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The children began to eat quickly.  Alison and David again exchanged
+glances.  Harry suddenly pushed back his chair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You say your grace before you go," said Grannie, fixing him with her
+bright blue eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He blushed a little, muttered a word or two, and then left the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Harry is a good lad," said the old lady when he had gone, "but he is
+getting a bit uppish.  He's a masterful sort.  He aint like you, Dave."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am masterful in my own way," answered David.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He crossed the room, bent over the little old woman, and kissed her on
+the forehead.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Harry and I will be a bit late to-night," he said.  "We've joined a
+boys' club in Bethnal Green."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A club?" said Grannie.  "You're young to be out at nights by yourself.
+What sort of club?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, It's a first-rate sort.  It has been opened by a good man.  He's a
+right down jolly fellow, though he is a swell.  There's boxing and all
+kinds of good games going on there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's all right, Grannie," interrupted Alison.  "Boys must grow into
+men," she added, in a quick voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear me," answered the old woman, "I don't know nothing, I suppose!
+When I was young, boys in their teens stayed at home.  But there! you
+are a good lad, Dave, and I'll trust you to keep Harry out of mischief."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Harry is well enough, Grannie, if you'd only trust him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I suppose I must.  Give me a kiss, Dave, and be off.  Children,
+loves, what are you pottering about for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We're ready to go now, Grannie," said the little ones.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They shouldered their bags, put on their hats, and left the room with
+considerable clatter, only first of all each small pair of legs made
+for Grannie's chair, each rosy pair of lips bestowed a vigorous kiss
+upon her apple-blossom cheeks.  She patted them on their shoulders,
+smiled at them with happy eyes full of love; and they rushed off to
+school, grumbling a little at her quick, abrupt ways, but loving her
+well deep down in their hearts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison stood up and began to put away the dinner things.  Alison and
+Mrs. Reed were now alone.  The old woman looked anxiously at the girl.
+Alison's figure was very slight and graceful.  She wore her shop dress,
+too, a neat black alpaca.  The young ladies in the shops in High
+Street, Shoreditch, could not afford black silk, but the shop in
+question was a good one, and black alpaca, neatly made, had quite as
+good an effect.  Alison's hair was put up stylishly on her head.  She
+wore a little bit of cheap lace round her throat, and a bit of the same
+came from under the neat wrists of her dress.  Two or three small
+chrysanthemums were pinned at her bosom.  Grannie thought her quite the
+lady.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish, child, you wouldn't slave yourself!" she said at last
+impatiently.  "What's the old woman for if it isn't to wash up and put
+in order? and I'm quite certain you ought to be back at the shop by
+now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm not going back," said Alison, in a low tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie had guessed this from the first.  She did not speak at all for
+a minute, then she chose to dally with the evil tidings.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a holiday you are having most like," she said.  "I didn't know
+they gave 'em at this time of the year, but I'm real glad.  I expect
+you let Jim Hardy know.  He'll be sure to be round bimeby when his
+work's over, and you'd like the kitchen to yourselves, wouldn't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Grannie, no," said Alison abruptly.  "There's no Jim for me any
+more, and there's no work, and&mdash;and&mdash;I'm in <I>trouble</I>&mdash;I'm in trouble."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She crossed the room impulsively, went on her knees, swept her two
+young arms round Grannie's frail figure, laid her head on the little
+woman's sloping shoulder, and burst into tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie was wonderfully comforting and consoling.  She did not express
+the least surprise.  She patted Alison on her cheek.  She allowed the
+girl to grasp her painful right hand and swollen arm without a word of
+protest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There, lovey, there, cry your heart out," she exclaimed.  "You 'a'
+lost your situation.  Well, you aint the first; you'll soon get
+another, dearie, and you'll be a rare bit of comfort to me at home for
+a few days.  There, set down close to me, darlin', and tell me
+everythink.  Wot's up, my pretty, wot's wrong?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought I wouldn't tell you," said Alison, stopping to wipe her
+tears away, "but I can't keep it back.  They have accused me in the
+shop of stealing a five-pound note out of the till.  Yes, Grannie, no
+wonder you open your eyes.  It is true; I am accused of being a thief.
+They are all sure that I have done it.  A five-pound note is missing;
+and you know how Mr. Shaw has sometimes trusted me, and sometimes, when
+he has been very busy, he has allowed me to go to the desk and open the
+till and take out change.  Well, that was what happened to-day.  A
+customer came in and asked Mr. Shaw to change a five-pound note for
+him, and Mr. Shaw went to the till to get the change, and then he shut
+it up, but he left the key in the lock, meaning to get back to his
+place at the desk in a minute; but business kept him, and I was the
+very next person to go to the till.  I locked it after I had taken out
+the change, and gave him the key.  He went back in a minute or two to
+take out the money to carry to the bank, and the five-pound note was
+missing.  He asked me out sharp if I had taken it&mdash;you know how red I
+get when anyone suspects me.  I felt myself blushing awfully, and then
+the other girls stopped working and the men, even Jim, stared at me,
+and I blushed hotter and hotter every minute.  Then Mr. Shaw said: 'You
+were overcome by temptation, Alison Reed, and you took the money; but
+give it back to me now at once, and I'll promise to forgive you, and
+say nothing more about it.'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I was so angry, and I said they might search me, and Mr. Shaw got
+angry then, and he got one of the girls to feel me all over and to turn
+my pockets inside out, and he called himself real kind not to get in
+the police.  Oh, Grannie, of course they couldn't find it on me, but I
+was searched there in the shop before everyone.  How am I ever to get
+over the shame?  I was nearly mad with passion, and I gave notice on
+the spot, and here I am.  I told Mr. Shaw that I would never enter his
+shop again until I was cleared, and I mean to keep my word.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Shaw seemed more angry with me for giving notice than he was at
+the loss of the note.  He said he was certain I took it, for no one
+else could, and that I had hid it somewhere, and that I was afraid to
+stay, and he said he wouldn't give me any character.  So here I am,
+Grannie.  I have lost my eight shillings a week, and I have lost my
+character, and I am suspected of being a thief&mdash;here I am, good for
+nothing.  I have just got my neat shop dress and that is all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And does Jim Hardy know?" asked Grannie.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was in the shop, of course, and heard everything.  I saw he wanted
+to speak, but they wouldn't let him; if he asks me again to be his
+wife, I shall say 'no' to him.  I never was quite certain whether I'd
+do right or wrong in marrying him, but now I'm positive.  Jim's a right
+good fellow, but he shan't ever have it to say that his wife was
+accused of theft.  I'm going to refuse him, Grannie.  I suppose I'll
+bear all this as well as another.  I'm young, anyway, and you believe
+in me, dont you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Believe in you?  of course!" said Mrs. Reed.  "I never heard of such a
+shameful thing in all my life.  Why, you are as honest as the day.  Of
+course that note will be found, and Mr. Shaw, who knows your value,
+will ask you to go back fast enough.  It 'll be all right, that it
+will.  I know what I'll do, I'll go straight to the shop and speak
+about it.  I'm not going to stand this, whoever else is.  It aint a
+slight thing, Alison; it aint the sort of thing that a girl can get
+over.  There are you, only seventeen, and so pretty and like a real
+lady.  Yes, you are; you needn't pertend you aint.  Me and my people
+were always genteel, and you take after us.  I'll see to it.  You
+shan't be accused of theft, my dear, ef I can help it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you can't help it, Grannie dear.  Whatever you say they won't
+believe you.  There is a girl I hate at the shop, and only that I know
+it is impossible, I could believe that she had a finger in the pie.
+Her name is Louisa Clay.  She is rather handsome, and at one time we
+used to be friends, but ever since Jim and I began to keep company she
+has looked very black at me.  I think she has a fancy that Jim would
+have taken to her but for me; anyhow, I could not help seeing how
+delighted she looked when I went out of the shop.  Oh, let it be,
+Grannie; what is the use of interfering?  You may talk yourself hoarse,
+but they won't believe you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Believe me or not, Mr. Shaw has got to hear what I say," answered the
+old woman.  "I am not going to see my girl slighted, nor falsely
+accused, nor her good name taken from her without interfering.  It is
+no use talking, Alison; I will have my way in this matter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie rose from her chair as she spoke.  Her cheeks were quite
+flushed new, her eyes were almost too bright, and her poor hand ached
+and ached persistently.  Alison, who had been sitting on the floor
+shedding tears now and then, rose slowly, walked to the window, and
+looked out.  She was feeling half stunned.  She was by nature a very
+bright, happy girl.  Until this moment things had gone well with her in
+life.  She was clever, and had carried all before her at the Board
+school.  She was also pretty, and, as Grannie expressed it, "genteel."
+She had got a good post in a good shop, and until to-day had been
+giving marked satisfaction.  Her earnings were of great value to the
+little home party, and she was likely before long to have a rise.  Mr.
+Shaw, the owner of the haberdasher's shop in which she worked, talked
+of making Alison his forewoman before long.  She had a stylish
+appearance.  She showed off his mantles and hats to advantage; she had
+a good sharp eye for business; she was very civil and obliging; she won
+her way with all his customers; there was not a girl in the shop who
+could get rid of remnants like Alison; in short, she was worth more
+than a five-pound note to him, and when she was suddenly accused of
+theft, in his heart of hearts he was extremely sorry to lose her.
+Alison was too happy up to the present moment not to do her work
+brightly and well.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The foreman in Shaw's shop was a young man of about four-and-twenty.
+His name was Hardy.  He was a handsome fellow; he had fallen in love
+with Alison almost from the first moment he had seen her.  A week ago
+he had asked her to be his wife; she had not yet given him her answer,
+but she had long ago given him her heart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Now everything was changed; a sudden and very terrible blow had fallen
+on the proud girl.  Her pride was humiliated to the very dust.  She had
+held her head high, and it was now brought low.  She resolved never to
+look at Hardy again.  Nothing would induce her to go back to the shop.
+Oh, yes, Grannie might go to Mr. Shaw and talk as much as she liked,
+but nothing would make matters straight now.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Reed was very quick about all she said and did.  She was tired
+after her long morning of waiting in the Out-Patients' Department of
+the London Hospital, but mere bodily fatigue meant very little to her.
+One of her nurslings&mdash;the special darling of her heart&mdash;was humiliated
+and in danger.  It was her duty to go to the rescue.  She put on her
+black bonnet and neat black shawl, encased her little hands once again
+in her white cotton gloves, and walked briskly through the kitchen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm off, Ally," she said.  "I'll be back soon with good news."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then she paused near the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ef you have a bit of time you might go on with some of the
+needlework," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She thought of the hand which ached so sorely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Grannie," replied Alison, turning slowly and looking at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You'll find the basket in the cupboard, love.  I'm doing the
+feather-stitching now; don't you spoil the pattern."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Grannie," answered the girl.  Then she added abruptly, her lips
+quivering: "There aint no manner of use in your going out and tiring
+yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Use or not, I am going," said Mrs. Reed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By the way, if Jim should happen to come in, be sure you keep him.  I
+have a bit of a saveloy in the cupboard to make a flavor for his tea.
+Don't you bother with that feather-stitching if Jim should be here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He won't be here," said Alison, compressing her lips.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Reed pottered down the long steep flight of steps, and soon found
+herself in the street.  The fog had grown thicker than ever.  It was
+very dense indeed now.  It was so full of sulphuric acid that it
+smarted the eyes and hurt the throats and lungs of the unfortunate
+people who were obliged to be out in it.  Grannie coughed as she
+threaded her way through the well-known streets.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear, dear," she kept muttering under her breath, "wot an evil world
+it is!  To think of a young innocent thing being crushed in that sort
+of cruel way!  Wot do it mean?  Of course things must be set right.
+I'll insist on that.  I aint a Reed for nothing.  The Reeds are
+well-born folks, and my own people were Phippses, and they were
+well-born too.  And as to the luck o' them, why, 'twas past tellin'.
+It don't do for one who's Phipps and Reed both, so to speak, to allow
+herself to be trampled on.  I'll soon set things straight.  I've got
+sperrit, wotever else I aint got."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She reached Shaw's establishment at last.  It was getting well into the
+afternoon, and for some reason the shop was more full than usual.  It
+was a very cheap shop and a very good one&mdash;excellent bargains could be
+found there&mdash;and all the people around patronized it.  Alison was
+missed to-day, having a very valuable head for business.  Shaw, the
+owner of the shop; was standing near the doorway.  He felt cross and
+dispirited.  He did not recognize Mrs. Reed when she came in.  He
+thought she was a customer, and bowed in an obsequious way.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What can I serve you with, madam?" he said.  "What department do you
+want to go to?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To none, thank you, sir," answered Mrs. Reed.  "I have come to see Mr.
+Shaw.  I'll be much obleeged if I can have a few words with him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Mr. Shaw!  Well, I happen to be that gentleman.  I am certainly
+very much occupied at present; in fact, my good woman, I must trouble
+you to call at a less busy time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must say a word to you now, sir, if you please," said Mrs. Reed,
+raising her eyes and giving him a steady glance.  "My name is Reed.  I
+have come about my grandchild."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh," said the owner of the shop, "you are Mrs. Reed."  His brow
+cleared instantly.  "I shall be pleased to see you, madam.  Of course
+you have come to talk over the unpleasant occurrence of this morning.
+I am more grieved than I can say.  Step this way, madam, if you please."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He marched Grannie with pomp through the crowd of customers; a moment
+later she found herself in his private office.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now," he said, "pray be seated.  I assure you, Mrs. Reed, I greatly
+regret&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ef you please, sir," said Grannie, "it is not to hear your regrets
+that I have come here.  A great wrong has been done my granddaughter.
+Alison is a good girl, sir.  She has been well brought up, and she
+would no more touch your money than I would.  I come of a respectable
+family, Mr. Shaw.  I come of a stock that would scorn to steal, and I
+can't say more of Alison than that she and me are of one mind.  She
+left her 'ome this morning as happy a girl as you could find, and came
+back at dinner time broken-'earted.  Between breakfast and dinner a
+dreadful thing happened to her; she was accused of stealing a
+five-pound note out of your till.  She said she were innocent, but was
+not believed.  She was searched in the presence of her fellow shop
+people.  Why, sir, is it likely she could get over the shame o' that?
+Of course you didn't find the money on her, but you have broke her
+heart, and she 'ave left your service."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, madam, I am very sorry for the whole thing, but I do not think I
+can be accused of undue harshness to your granddaughter.  Circumstances
+were strongly against her, but I didn't turn her off.  She took the law
+into her own hands, as far as that is concerned."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course she took the law into her own hands, Mr. Shaw.  'Taint
+likely that a girl wot has come of the Phippses and the Reeds would
+stand that sort of conduct.  I'm her grandmother, born a Phipps, and I
+ought to know.  You used rough words, sir, and you shamed her before
+everyone, and you refused her a <I>character</I>, so she can't get another
+place.  Yes, sir, you have taken her character and her bread from her
+by the same <I>h</I>act, and wot I have come to say is that I won't have it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. Shaw began to lose his temper&mdash;little Mrs. Reed had long ago lost
+hers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look here, my good woman," he said, "it's very fine for you to talk in
+that high-handed style to me, but you can't get over the fact that five
+pounds are missing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I 'aven't got over it, sir; and it is because I 'aven't that I've come
+to talk to you to-day.  The money must be found.  You must not leave a
+stone unturned until it is found, for Alison must be cleared of this
+charge.  That is wot I have come to say.  There's someone else a thief
+in your house, sir, but it aint my girl."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am inclined to agree with you," said Shaw, in a thoughtful voice,
+"and I may as well say now that I regret having acted on the impulse of
+the moment.  The facts of the case are these: Between eleven and twelve
+o'clock to-day, one of my best customers came here and asked me to give
+him change for a five-pound note.  I went to the till and did so,
+taking out four sovereigns and a sovereign's worth of silver, and
+dropped the five-pound note into the till in exchange.  In my hurry I
+left the key in the till.  Miss Reed was standing close to me, waiting
+to ask me a question, while I was attending to my customer.  As soon as
+he had gone she began to speak about some orders which had not been
+properly executed.  While I was replying to her, and promising to look
+into the matter, a couple of customers came in.  Miss Reed began to
+attend to them.  They bought some ribbons and gloves, and put down a
+sovereign to pay for them.  She asked me for change, and being in a
+hurry at the moment, I told her to go to the till and help herself.
+She did so, bringing back the change, and at the same time giving me
+the key of the till.  I put the key into my pocket, and the usual
+business of the morning proceeded.  After a time I went to open the
+till to take out the contents in order to carry the money to the bank.
+I immediately missed the five-pound note.  You will see for yourself,
+Mrs. Reed, that suspicion could not but point to your granddaughter.
+She had seen the whole transaction.  To my certain knowledge no one
+else could have gone to the till without being noticed.  I put the
+five-pound note into the till with my own hands.  Miss Reed went at my
+request to get change for a customer.  She locked the till and brought
+me the key, and when I next went to it the five-pound note had
+disappeared."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And you think that evidence sufficient to ruin the whole life and
+character of a respectable girl?" said Mrs. Reed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no use in your taking that high tone, madam.  The evidence
+against Miss Reed was sufficient to make me question her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Accuse her, you mean," said Mrs. Reed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Accuse her, if you like then, madam, of the theft."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which she denied, Mr. Shaw."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Naturally she would deny it, Mrs. Reed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And then you had her searched."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was obliged to do so for the credit of the whole establishment, and
+the protection of my other workpeople; the affair had to be gone
+properly into."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you found nothing on her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As you say, I found nothing.  If Miss Reed took the money she must
+have hidden it somewhere else."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you still think she took it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am inclined to believe she did not, but the puzzle is, who did? for
+no one else had the opportunity."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You may be certain," said Mrs. Reed, "that someone else did have the
+opportunity, even without your knowing it.  Clever thieves can do that
+sort of thing wonderful sharp, I have heard say; but Alison aint that
+sort.  Now, what do you mean to do to clear my granddaughter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I tell you what I'll do," said Shaw, after a pause.  "I like your
+granddaughter.  I am inclined to believe, in spite of appearances, that
+she is innocent.  I must confess that she acted very insolently to me
+this morning, and for the sake of the other shop people she must
+apologize; but if she will apologize I will have her back&mdash;there, I
+can't act fairer than that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing will make her step inside your shop, sir, until she is
+cleared."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, well!" said Mr. Shaw, rising, "she must take the consequence.  She
+is a great fool, for she'll never get such a chance again.  Suspicion
+is strong against her.  I am willing to overlook everything, and to let
+the affair of the five pounds sink into oblivion.  Your granddaughter
+is useful to me, and, upon my word, I believe she is innocent.  If she
+does not come back, she will find it extremely difficult to get another
+situation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sir," said Mrs. Reed, "you don't know Alison.  Nothing will make her
+set her foot inside this shop until the real thief is found.  Are you
+going to find him or are you not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will do my best, madam, and if that is your last word, perhaps you
+will have the goodness not to take up any more of my valuable time."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap02"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER II.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Reed left the shop, and went home as quickly as her small, active
+feet could carry her.  She was feeling quite brisked up by her
+interview with Shaw, and her indignation supplied her with strength.
+She got back to the model lodging in Sparrow Street, mounted to her own
+floor, and opened the door with a latch-key.  Alison was sitting by the
+window, busy over the needlework which Grannie would have done had she
+been at home.  Alison was but an indifferent worker, whereas Grannie
+was a very beautiful one.  Few people could do more lovely hand work
+than Mrs. Reed.  She was famous for her work, and got, as such things
+go, good prices for it.  The very best shops in the West End employed
+her.  She was seldom without a good job on hand.  She had invented a
+new pattern in feather-stitching which was greatly admired, and which
+she was secretly very proud of&mdash;it was an intricate pattern, and it
+made a very good show.  No other workwoman knew how to do it, and
+Grannie was very careful not to impart her secret to the trade.  This
+feather-stitching alone gave her a sort of monopoly, and she was too
+good a woman of business not to avail herself of it.  It was the
+feather-stitching which had mostly tried her poor hand and arm, and
+brought on the horrid pain which the doctor had called writers' cramp.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some doctors are out-and-out fools," murmured the old woman to
+herself.  "He were a very nice spoke gentleman&mdash;tall and genteel, and
+he treated me like a lady, which any true man would; but when he said I
+had got writers' cramp in this hand, it must have been nonsense.  For
+there, I never write; ef I spell through a letter once in six months to
+my poor sister's only child in Australia, it's the very most that I can
+do.  Writers' cramp, indeed!  Well, it's a comfort to know that he must
+be wrong.  I wonder how Ally has got on with the work.  Poor dear!
+I'll have to do more of that feather-stitching than ever, now that Ally
+has lost her situation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison looked up and saw her grandmother standing near her.  She had,
+of course, been taught the feather-stitching.  Mrs. Reed had confided
+this important secret to her once in a time of serious illness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For I may die, and it may go out of the fam'ly," she said.  "It was
+begun by my grandmother, who got the first notion of it in the sort of
+trail of the leaves.  My grandmother was a Simpson&mdash;most respectable
+folk&mdash;farmers of the best sort.  She had wonderful linen, as fine as
+silk.  She made it all herself, and then she hemmed it and marked it
+and feather-stitched it with them trailing leaves.  She taught the
+trail to my mother, who married Phipps, and mother had a turn for
+needlework, and she gave it that little twist and rise which makes it
+so wonderful pretty and neat; but 'twas I popped on the real finish,
+quilting it, so to speak, and making it the richest trimming, and the
+most dainty you could find.  You must learn it, Alison; it would be a
+sin and a shame for it to die with me.  It must stay in the fam'ly, and
+you must 'ave it on yer wedding linen, that you must."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie had taken great pains teaching Alison, and Alison had tried
+hard to learn, but, unlike the Phippses and the Simpsons, she had no
+real turn for fine needlework.  She learned the wonderful stitch, it is
+true, but only in a sort of fashion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Now, the secret of that stitch it is not for me to disclose.  It had to
+be done with a twist here, and a loop there, and a sudden clever
+bringing round of the thread from the left to the right at a critical
+moment; then followed a still more clever darting of the needle through
+a loop, which suddenly appeared just when it was least expected.  The
+feather-stitching involved many movements of the hand and arm, and
+certainly gave a splendid effect to the fine linen or cambric on which
+it was worked.  Grannie could do it almost with her eyes shut, but
+Alison, who thought she knew all about it, found when she began to
+practice that she had not taken the right loop nor the proper twist,
+and she quite forgot the clever under-movement which brought the thread
+from left to right, and made that sort of crinkled scroll which all the
+other workwomen in West London tried to imitate in vain.  Grannie was
+trimming some beautiful underlinen for a titled lady; it was made of
+the finest cambric, and the feather-stitching was to be a special
+feature.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She stood now, looked down at her pretty grandchild, and saw that she
+had ruined the work.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor dear," muttered the old woman to herself, "she dint got the turn
+of it, or maybe her head is confused.  No wonder, I'm sure; for a
+cleverer nor neater girl than Alison don't live."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There, my love," she said, speaking aloud, "I've come back.  You can
+put away the work now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Grannie!" said the girl, looking up with flushed cheeks, "have I
+done it right?  It looks wrong somehow; it aint a bit rich like what
+you do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dearie me," said the old woman, "as ef that mattered.  You pop it back
+into my drawer now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But have I done any harm?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course not, lovey.  Pop it into the drawer and come and make
+yourself smart for Jim."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For Jim?" said Alison, looking up with a glow on her cheeks, her eyes
+shining.  "You speak as if you had good news; has anything been
+discovered?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie had made up her mind to cheer Alison by every means in her
+power.  She sat down now on the nearest chair, untied her
+bonnet-strings, and looked affectionately at the girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have good news," she said; "yes, all things considered, I have."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is the money found, grandmother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You couldn't expect it to be yet.  Of course, <I>she</I> wot took it hid
+it&mdash;wot else can you expect?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, then nothing matters!" said Alison, her head drooping.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dearie me, child, that's no way to take misfortin.  The whole thing
+from first to last was just a bit of bad luck, and luck's the queerest
+thing in life.  I have thought over luck all my long years, and am not
+far from seventy, thank the Lord for his goodness, and I can't
+understand it yet.  Luck's agen yer, and nothing you can do will make
+it for yer, jest for a spell.  Then, for no rhyme or reason, it 'll
+turn round, and it's for yer, and everything prospers as yer touches,
+and you're jest as fort'nate as you were t'other way.  With a young
+thing like you, Ally, young and pretty and genteel, luck aint never
+'ard; it soon turns, and it will with you.  No, the money's not found
+yet," continued the old woman, rising and taking off her bonnet and
+giving it a little shake; "but it's sure to be to-night or to-morrow,
+for I've got the promise of the master that he won't leave a stone
+unturned to find out the thief.  I did give him my mind, Alison.  I
+wish you could have heard me.  I let out on him.  I let him see what
+sort of breed I am'&mdash;a Phipps wot married a Reed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, as if that mattered!" groaned Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, it did with him, love.  Breed allers tells.  You may be low-born
+and nothing will 'ide it&mdash;not all the dress and not all the, by way of,
+fine manners.  It's jest like veneer&mdash;it peels off at a minute's
+notice.  But breed's true to the core; it wears.  Alison, it wears to
+the end."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Grannie," said Alison, who had often heard these remarks before,
+"what did Mr. Shaw really say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My love, he treated me werry respectful.  He told me the whole story,
+calm and quiet, and then he said that he was quite sure himself that
+you was innocent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He didn't say that, really?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I tell you he did, child; and wot's more, he offered you the place
+back again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was Alison's turn now to rise to her feet.  She laughed hysterically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And does he think I'll go," she said, "with this hanging over me?  No!
+I'd starve first.  If that's all, he has his answer.  I'll never go
+back to that shop till I'm cleared.  Oh, I don't know where your good
+news is," she continued; "everything seems very black and dreadful.  If
+it were not for&mdash;&mdash;"  Her rosy lips trembled; she did not complete her
+sentence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I could bear it," she said, in a broken voice, "if it were not
+for&mdash;&mdash;"  Again she hesitated, rushed suddenly across the room, and
+locked herself into the little bedroom which she shared with one of her
+sisters.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap03"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER III.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Grannie pottered about and got the tea.  As she did so she shook her
+old head, and once a dim moisture came to her eyes.  Her hand ached so
+painfully that if she had been less brave she would have sat down and
+given herself up to the misery which it caused her.  But Grannie had
+never thought much of herself, and she was certainly not going to do so
+to-day when her darling was in such trouble.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Whatever I do, I mustn't let out that Ally failed in the
+feather-stitching," she said to herself.  "I'll unpick it to-night when
+she is in bed.  She has enough to bear without grieving her.  I do hope
+Jim will come in about supper time.  I should think he was safe to.  I
+wonder if I could rub a little of that liniment onto my 'and myself.
+It do burn so; to think that jest a little thing of this sort should
+make me mis'rible.  Talk of breed!  I don't suppose I'm much, after
+all, or I'd not fret about a trifle of this sort."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The tea was laid on the table&mdash;the coarse brown loaf, the pat of
+butter, the huge jug of skim milk, and the teapot full of weak tea.
+The children all came in hungry from school.  Alison returned from her
+bedroom with red eyes.  She cut the bread into thick slices, put a
+scrape of butter on each slice, and helped her brothers and sisters.
+The meal was a homely one, but perfectly nourishing.  The children all
+looked fat and well cared for.  Grannie took great pride in their rosy
+faces, and in their plump, firm limbs.  She and Alison between them
+kept all the family together.  She made plenty of money with her
+beautiful needlework, and Alison put the eight shillings which she
+brought home every Saturday night from the shop into the common fund.
+She had her dinner at the shop, which was also a great help.  Dave was
+beginning to earn about half a crown a week, which kept him in shoes
+and added a very tiny trifle to the general purse; but Harry was still
+not only an expense, but an anxiety to the family.  The three younger
+children were, of course, all expense at present, but Grannie's
+feather-stitching and lovely work and Alison's help kept the little
+family well-off.  As the old woman watched them all to-night, she
+laughed softly under her breath at the stupid mistake the doctor had
+made.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ef he had said anything but writers' cramp, I might 'a' been nervous,"
+she said to herself, "but writers' cramp aint possible to anyone as
+don't write.  I don't place much store by doctors after that stoopid
+mistake; no, that I don't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison's face was very pale.  She scarcely spoke during tea.  The
+children were surprised to see her at home both for dinner and tea, and
+began to question her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, you shet up, you little curiosity boxes," said Grannie, in her
+brisk, rather aggressive voice.  "Ally is at home&mdash;well, because she
+is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Grannie! what sort of answer is that?" cried Polly, the youngest
+girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's the only one you'll get, Miss Pry," replied Grannie.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The other children laughed, and began to call Polly "Miss Pry," and
+attention was completely diverted from Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After the tea-things had been washed and the children had settled down
+to their books and different occupations, there came a knock at the
+door, and Hardy entered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison was in her bedroom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Set down, Mr. Hardy," said Grannie, if her cheerful voice.  "You've
+come to see Ally, I suppose?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, if I may," answered the young man, an anxious expression on his
+face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure you may; who more welcome?  Children, run into my bedroom,
+dears.  I'll turn on the gas and you can study your books in there.
+Run now, and be quick about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's so cold," said Polly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tut, tut, not another word; scatter, all of you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The children longed particularly to stay; they were very fond of Hardy,
+who generally brought them sweets.  Polly's quick eyes had seen a white
+parcel sticking out of his pocket.  It was horrid to have to go into
+Grannie's bedroom.  It was an icy-cold room; just, too, when the
+kitchen was most enticing.  They had to go, however, and Grannie shut
+the door behind them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor things, it will be cold for them in there," said the young man.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tut, tut," answered Grannie again, "you don't want 'em to be brought
+up soft and lazy and good for naught.  Now then, Jim, set down and make
+yourself at home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is she?" asked Hardy, speaking in a low voice, and raising his
+handsome eyes to the old lady's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie's eyes blazed in reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you expect her to be?" she answered.  "Publicly shamed as she
+were; I wonder you didn't take her part, Jim, that I do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I felt stunned," replied Hardy; "it was all so sudden.  I tried to
+push forward and to speak, but I was prevented.  There was such an
+excitement, and Mr. Shaw was in a towering passion&mdash;there's no doubt of
+that.  I'm sorry she has left, though."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Grannie, "she's had the offer to take her place again if
+she likes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Has she?  Then he doesn't believe her to be guilty?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; who would who knew her?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who would, indeed?" answered the young man, a glow of pride and
+pleasure o&amp; his face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll tell her you are here in a minute," said Grannie, "and then I'll
+leave you two the kitchen to yourselves.  But before I go away I jest
+want to say one thing&mdash;Alison won't go back."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Won't?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, nor would I let her.  Alison will stay here till she's cleared.
+You are in the shop, Jim, and it's your business to find the
+thief&mdash;that is, ef you love my girl, wot I take it you do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"With all my heart, that I do," he replied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then your work's cut out for you.  Now you may see her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie stepped across the kitchen.  She opened Alison's door a quarter
+of an inch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jim's here, Ally," she said.  "I've a job of work in my bedroom, and
+the children are out of the way.  You two can have the kitchen to
+yourselves ef you want to talk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison's low reply was scarcely discernible.  Grannie went into her
+bedroom, clicking the door behind her.  A moment or two later Hardy
+heard Alison step lightly across her room.  She came out of it, crossed
+the kitchen, and approached his side.  Her face was perfectly white,
+her lips trembled with emotion.  She still wore her shop dress, but
+there was a disheveled sort of look about her which the young man had
+never noticed before.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her beautiful fair hair was rumpled and in disorder, her deep-blue eyes
+looked pathetic owing to the tears she had shed.  The young man's whole
+heart went out to her at a great bound.  How beautiful she was!  How
+unlike any other girl he had ever seen!  How much he loved her in her
+hour of trouble!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Alison," he said, speaking the first words that came to his lips,
+"I could die for you&mdash;there!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison burst into tears.  Jim put his arm round her; she did not
+repulse him.  He drew her close to him, and she laid her head on his
+shoulder.  He had never held her so close to him before; he had never
+yet kissed her; now he kissed her soft hair as it brushed against his
+cheek.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There, there," he said, after a moment or two, during which she sobbed
+in a sort of luxury of grief and happiness; "there, there, my darlin',
+I am between you and all the troubles of this hard world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Jim, but I can't have it," she answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She remembered herself in a moment, withdrew her head from his
+shoulder, pressed back his hands, which struggled to hold her, and
+seated herself on a low stool at the opposite side of the little stove.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's all over, dear Jim," she said.  "I do love you, I don't deny it;
+but I must say 'no' to-night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why," said Hardy, "why should a nasty, spiteful bit of
+misadventure like what happened to-day divide you and me?  There is no
+sense in it, Alison."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sense or no, we can't be engaged," replied Alison.  "I won't have it;
+I love you too well.  I'll never marry anybody while it's held over me
+that I'm a thief."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, darlin', you are no more a thief than I am; you are jest the most
+beautiful and the best girl in all the world.  I'll never marry anybody
+ef I don't marry you, Ally.  Oh, I think it is cruel of you to turn me
+away jest because you happen to be the last person seen going to the
+till."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sorry if I seem cruel, Jim," she replied, "but my mind is quite
+made up.  It's a week to-night since you asked me to be your wife.  I
+love yer, I don't pretend to deny it; I've loved yer for many a month,
+and my heart leaped with joy when you said you loved me, and of course
+I meant to say 'yes.'  But now everything is changed; I'm young, only
+seventeen, and whatever we do now means all our lives, Jim, yours and
+mine.  This morning I were so happy&mdash;yes, that I were; and I just
+longed for to-night to come, and I was fit to fly when I went to the
+shop, although there was a fog, and poor Grannie's hand was so painful
+that she had to go to see the doctor at the hospital; but then came the
+blow, and it changed everything, just everything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't see it," interrupted Jim; "I can't see your meaning; it has
+not changed your love nor mine, and that's the only thing that seems to
+me of much moment.  You jest want me more than ever now, and I guess
+that if you loved me before, you love me better now, so why don't you
+say 'yes'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't," she replied; "I have thought it all over.  I was stunned at
+first, but for the last hour or two everything has been very plain to
+me.  I am innocent, Jim.  I no more took that note out of the till than
+you did; but it's gone, and I'm suspected.  I was accused of taking it,
+before the whole shop.  I'm branded, that's what I feel, and nothing
+can take away the brand, and the pain, and the soreness, except being
+cleared.  If I were to say 'yes' to you to-night, Jim, and let you love
+me, and kiss me, and by and by take me afore the parson, and make me
+your lawful wife&mdash;I&mdash;I wouldn't be the sort of girl you really love.
+The brand would be there, and the soreness, and the shame, and the
+dreadful words would keep ringing in my ears, 'You are a thief, you are
+a thief'&mdash;so I couldn't be a good wife to yer, Jim, for that sort of
+thing would wear me out, and I'd be sort of changed; and well as you
+love me now, it would come back to you that once the girl what was your
+wife was called a thief, so I'll never say 'yes'&mdash;never, until I'm
+cleared; and somehow I don't expect I ever will be cleared, for the one
+that did me this mischief must be very clever, and deep, and cunning.
+So it's 'good-by,' Jim dear, and you'd better think no more of me, for
+I'll never go back to the shop, and I'll never wed you until I'm
+cleared of this dark, dark deed that is put down to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I will clear you; I vow it," said Hardy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rose to his feet; he looked very strong, and firm, and determined.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't suppose that I'll lose you for the sake of a five-pound
+note," he said.  "I'll clear you.  Grannie has put it on me, and now
+you put it on me more than ever.  It 'll be only a day or two most like
+that we'll be parted, sweetheart.  Only I wish you wouldn't stick to
+this, Ally.  Let me kiss you, and let me feel that you are my own dear
+love, and I'll work harder than ever to prove that you are innocent as
+the beautiful dawn that you are like.  There was no one ever so
+beautiful as you, like you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison smiled very faintly while Jim was speaking to her, but when he
+approached her and held out his arms, and tried to coax her to come
+into them, she drew back.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," she said, "I'm a thief until I'm cleared, and you shan't kiss a
+thief, Jim Hardy, that you shan't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her tears broke out afresh as she uttered these words; she flung
+herself on the little settle, and sobbed very bitterly.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap04"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER IV.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Jim walked quickly down the street; the fog had now partly lifted, and
+a very faint breeze came and fanned his cheeks as, with great strides,
+he went in the direction of Bishopsgate Street.  He had lodgings in
+Bishopsgate Without&mdash;a tiny room at the top of a house, which he called
+his own, and which he kept beautifully neat, full of books and other
+possessions.  Hanging over his mantelpiece was a photograph of Alison.
+It did not do her justice, failing to reproduce her expression, giving
+no color to the charming, petulant face, and merely reproducing the
+fairly good features without putting any life into them.  When Hardy
+got home and turned on the gas in his little attic, he took the
+photograph down from its place and looked at it hungrily and greedily.
+He was a young giant in his way, strong and muscular and good-looking.
+His dark eyes seemed to gather fire as he looked at Alison's picture;
+his lips, always strong and determined, became obstinate in their
+outline; he clenched one of his strong hands, then put the photograph
+slowly and carefully back in its place.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have made a vow," he said to himself.  "I don't remember ever making
+a vow before; I'll keep this vow, so help me Heaven!&mdash;I have got to
+clear my girl; yes, when all is said and done, she is my girl.  I'll
+set this thing right before a week is out.  Now let me put on my
+considering cap&mdash;let me try to think of this matter as if I were a
+detective.  By the way, there's that friend of mine, Sampson, who is in
+the detective force; I've a good mind to run round to him and ask his
+advice.  There's treachery somewhere, and he might give me a wrinkle or
+two."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim put on his cap, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and went
+out once more.  As he was running downstairs he met his landlady&mdash;he
+was a favorite with her.  She accosted him with a civil word, and an
+inquiry if he did not want some supper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, thanks," he replied, "I will sup out to-night&mdash;good-night, Mrs.
+Higgins."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She nodded and smiled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder what's up with him," she sad to herself&mdash;"how white he do
+look! and his eyes sorter dazed&mdash;he's a right good fellow, and I wish I
+had more like him in the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim meanwhile was marching quickly in the direction of Sampson's
+lodgings.  He had been brought up in the country, and had never seen
+London until he was seventeen years of age.  His great frame and
+athletic limbs were all country-bred; he could never lose that
+knowledge which had come to him in his boyhood&mdash;the knowledge of
+climbing and rowing, of fishing and swimming&mdash;the power to use all his
+limbs.  This power had made him big and strong, and London ways and
+London life could not greatly affect him.  He was very clever and very
+steady, and was rising to a good position in the shop.  His thoughts
+were far away now from his own affairs; they were absorbed with
+Alison&mdash;with that dreadful shame which surrounded her, and with the vow
+he had made to set his dear love straight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If there's treachery, Sampson and me will find it out between us," he
+said to himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was fortunate in finding Sampson in, and very soon unfolded his
+errand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sampson was as London-bred as Jim was the reverse.  He was a little
+fellow, with a face like a ferret; he had sharp-peaked features, a pale
+skin with many freckles, very small, keen blue eyes, rather closely set
+together, red hair, which he wore short and stuck up straight all over
+his small head.  His face was clean-shaven, and he had a very alert
+look.  Sampson did not live in an attic&mdash;he had a neat, well-furnished
+room, on the third floor.  His room did not show the taste Jim's
+did&mdash;it was largely garnished with colored photographs of handsome
+young women, and some of the most celebrated cricketers and boxers of
+the day.  His mantelpiece was covered with pipes and one or two
+policemen's whistles.  He was indulging in a pipe when Jim was
+announced.  He welcomed his friend cordially, asked him to be seated,
+listened to his tale, and then sat silent, thinking very carefully over
+the mystery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Jim, "why don't you speak?  I have got to clear this thing
+in a couple of days.  My girl will have nothing to do with me until she
+is cleared of this shame, so you see how things stand, Sampson.  I have
+got a bit of money put by, and I'll spend it clearing her if you think
+you can help me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no, 'taint my line," said Sampson, "and, besides, I wouldn't take
+your money, old chap; you are welcome to my advice, but I should only
+rouse suspicion if I were to appear in the matter&mdash;still, we can talk
+the thing well over.  It seems to me the point is this, who was the
+person who got to the till while Miss Reed's back was turned?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They swear that no one could get to it," replied Jim.  "The till is,
+of course, in the master's desk, and Alison was close to it&mdash;she
+scarcely left that part of the shop&mdash;at any rate, only to move a foot
+or two away, before the customer arrived whom she was to serve.  She
+served her customer, and went to ask Mr. Shaw for change.  He told her
+that the key was in the till, and that she might help herself.  She
+took the change out and then locked the till.  Alison is anxious enough
+to be cleared, you may be quite sure, but she can't see herself how it
+was possible that anyone else could have got to the till from the
+moment the five-pound note was put into it until she herself took
+change out and then locked it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, of course," said Sampson, "so she thinks.  Now, one of three
+things is plain.  You'll forgive me if I speak right out quite plainly,
+my boy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course," answered Hardy, with a faint smile.  "You were always
+famous for telling your mind when you liked, Sampson."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And for keeping it back when I liked," retorted Sampson.  "I wouldn't
+be much of a detective if I didn't do that&mdash;still, this is my view of
+the case in a nutshell.  One of three things must have happened&mdash;that
+is, granted that Mr. Shaw did put the five-pound note into the till."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, of course he did," said Jim, in surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We must grant that," interrupted Sampson, "or we have nothing to go
+upon.  Granted that he put the money into the till, one of three things
+happened.  Miss Reed was tempted and helped herself to the five-pound
+note&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim sprang to his feet, he clenched his big fist, and made a step
+toward Sampson, who sat, slight, small, and unprovoked, in his chair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sit down, won't you?" he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only I want to strangle you and kick you out of the room," said Jim.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I beg of you to refrain.  I told you that I was a blunt body.  I
+don't think for a moment that Miss Reed took the money.  In that case,
+one of my remaining two suppositions must have happened; either the
+note is still in the drawer, pushed out of sight, or under some loose
+change&mdash;hidden, the Lord knows where&mdash;or somebody did get to the till
+without Miss Reed seeing that person.  My belief, and my knowledge of
+human nature, induce me to think that the third idea is the right one."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But no one could," began Jim.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You can't say that no one could.  Lor' bless you, the artful devices
+of some folks is past counting.  Now tell me, what sort are the other
+girls in the shop?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, well enough&mdash;a very respectable lot."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't think any of them have a spite against your young woman?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, no, I don't suppose they have&mdash;that is&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, you hesitate&mdash;that means that one of them has.  Now speak out,
+Jim.  All depends on your being candid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, yes!  I'll be candid enough," said Jim; "I never saw anything
+wrong with the young women in the shop.  Of course, except Alison, I
+have not had much to do with any of them, but Ally once said to me that
+a girl called Louisa Clay had, she thought, a spite agen her.  I can't
+imagine why, I'm sure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is interesting," said Sampson.  "Mark my words, Louisa Clay is at
+the bottom of the business.  Now tell me, what sort is she?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A handsome, well-mannered girl," replied Jim.  "She's about twenty
+years of age, I should say, with a dash of the gypsy in her, for she
+has coal-black hair and flashing eyes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, you seem to have studied her face a bit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, she is not the sort that you could pass," said Jim, coloring;
+"besides, she wouldn't stand it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A jealous sort, would you say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can I tell?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes you can, Jim Hardy.  I see the end of this trouble, blest ef I
+don't.  How long has Alison been in the shop?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Six months."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How long have you been there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, several years!  I was apprentice first, and then I rose step by
+step.  I have been with Shaw a matter of six years."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And how long has Louisa Clay been there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't exactly remember, but I should say a year and a half."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sampson now rose to his feet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There we are," he said.  "You are a good-looking chap, Jim; you are
+taller than us London fellows, and you've got a pleasing way with you;
+you were civil to Louisa before Alison came.  Come now, the truth."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, she talked to me now and then," answered the young fellow,
+coloring again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, I guess she did, and you talked to her; in fact, you kept company
+with her, or as good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, that I didn't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, she thought you did, or hoped you would; so it all comes to the
+same.  Then Alison arrived, and you gave Louisa up.  Isn't that so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never thought about Louisa one way or the other, I assure you,
+Sampson.  Ally and I were friends from the first.  I hadn't known her a
+fortnight before I loved her more than all the rest of the world.  I
+have been courting her ever since.  I never gave a thought to another
+woman."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bless me! what an innocent young giant you are; but another woman gave
+you a thought, my hearty, and of course she was jealous of Miss Reed,
+and if she didn't want the money for reasons of her own, she was very
+glad to put a spoke in her wheel."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, come now, it isn't right to charge a girl like that," said Hardy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Right or wrong, I believe I've hit the nail on the head.  Anyhow,
+that's the track for us to work.  Where does this girl Clay live?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"With her father and mother in Shoreditch.  He's a pawnbroker, and by
+no means badly off."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You seem to have gone to their house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A few times on Sunday evenings.  Louisa asked me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you gone lately?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not to say very lately."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, what do you say to you and me strolling round there this
+evening?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This evening!" cried Jim.  "Oh, come now," he added, "I haven't the
+heart; that I haven't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have no spunk in you.  I thought you wanted to clear your girl."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, if you put it in that way, Sampson, of course I'll do anything;
+but I can't see your meaning.  I do want, God knows, to clear Alison,
+but I don't wish to drag another girl into it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You shan't; that will be my business.  After all, I see I must take
+this thing up; you are not the fellow for it.  The detective line, Jim,
+means walking on eggs without breaking 'em.  You'd smash every egg in
+the farmyard.  The detective line means guile; it means a dash of the
+knowing at every step.  You are as innocent as a babe, and you haven't
+the guile of an unfledged chicken.  You leave this matter with me.  I
+begin to think I'd like to see Miss Clay.  I admire that handsome,
+dashing sort of girl&mdash;yes, that I do.  All I want you to do, Jim, is to
+introduce me to the young lady.  If her father is a pawnbroker he must
+have a bit of money to give her, and a gel with a fat purse is just my
+style.  You come along to the Clays and give me a footing in the house,
+and that's all I ask."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim hesitated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't like it," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't like it," repeated Sampson, mimicking his manner.  "I wouldn't
+give much for that vow of yours, young man.  Why, you are a soft Sawny.
+You want to clear your own girl?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That I do, God knows."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then introduce me to Miss Clay."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Sampson, I hope I'm doing right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fiddlesticks with your right.  I tell you this is my affair.  Come
+along now, or it will be too late."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sampson took down his hat from the wall, and Jim, somewhat unwillingly,
+followed him out of the room and downstairs.  He did not like the job,
+and began to wish he had never consulted Sampson.  But the detective's
+cheery and pleasant talk very soon raised his spirits, and by the time
+the two young men had reached the sign of the Three Balls, Jim had
+persuaded himself that he was acting in a very manly manner, and that
+dear little Alison would soon be his promised wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Compared to Jim Hardy and George Sampson the Clays were quite wealthy
+folk.  Louisa need not have gone into a shop at all unless she so
+pleased, but she was a vivacious young person, who preferred having a
+purse of her own to being dependent on her father.  She liked to show
+herself off, and had the sense to see that she looked better in her
+neat black alpaca with its simple trimmings than in any of her
+beflowered and bespangled home dresses.  The Clays were having friends
+to supper this special evening, and the mirth was fast and hilarious
+when Hardy and Sampson entered the room.  Hardy had never seen Louisa
+before in her evening dress.  It gave her a blooming and buxom
+appearance.  The dress was of a flaming red color, slightly open at the
+neck, and with elbow sleeves.  Louisa started and colored when she saw
+Jim.  Her big eyes seemed to flash, and Sampson noticed that she gave
+him a bold, admiring glance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is at the bottom of this, if ever gel was," muttered the detective
+to himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He asked Hardy to introduce him; and presently, using that tact for
+which he was famous, induced Louisa to accompany him to a sofa at a
+little distance, where they sat together laughing and chatting, and
+Hardy was relieved to find that he need not pay this bold-looking girl
+any attention.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The supper was over before the young men arrived, but the atmosphere of
+the room was close with a mixture of tobacco and spirits.  Several very
+fat and loudly dressed old ladies were talking to a still fatter and
+more loudly dressed old lady at the head of the room.  This was the
+hostess.  Clay, the pawnbroker, a little man with a deeply wrinkled
+face and shrewd, beadlike, black eyes, was darting in and out amongst
+his friends, laughing loudly, cracking jokes, and making himself
+generally facetious and agreeable.  He clapped Jim on the shoulders,
+assured him that he was delighted to see him, and dragged him up to the
+sofa, where Louisa and Sampson were having a very open flirtation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My gel will be right glad to see yer," he said to Jim, with a broad
+wink.  "Eh, Louisa, who have I brought, eh?  You are sure to give Hardy
+a welcome, aint you, lass?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If he'll take it, of course," she replied.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She jumped up and gave Jim a second glance of unequivocal admiration.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was good of you to come," she said, in a low tone.  "I thought that
+you were a bit troubled to-day; but maybe that is why you have come, to
+be cheered up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim flushed and felt uncomfortable; he could not tell Louisa his real
+motive; he felt ashamed of himself, and longed to be out of this noisy
+scene.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And it isn't that I don't pity you," she continued.  "Of course I can
+see that you are cut up; who would have thought that a gel like
+Alison&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim put up his big hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not a word," he said; "I won't discuss it&mdash;I can't!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are awful cut up, old fellow, aint you?" said Louisa, moving a
+step or two out of the crowd and motioning him to a corner.  "Look
+here," she continued, "there's a quiet nook here, just under the
+stairs; let us stand here for a minute, I want to talk to yer.  I know
+you are cut up, and I am sorry&mdash;yes, that I am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't discuss it with you, Miss Clay," said Jim.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, aint it stiff of you to call me Miss Clay!" she retorted; "when
+you know me so well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps it is," he answered, too good-natured to be rude to her.  "I
+will call you Louisa if you like; but Louisa or Miss Clay, whichever
+you are, I can't talk of this matter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Louisa's great black eyes seemed to blaze like living fires.  She gave
+Jim a long glance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Just you tell me one thing," she said, almost in a whisper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is that?" he asked, surprised at her change of tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you going to marry Alison Reed, Jim Hardy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have no right to ask me the question," he replied, "but as you
+have, I will for once answer you frankly.  If I don't marry Alison
+Reed, no other girl shall be my wife."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that a vow?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You can take it as such, if you like," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wouldn't make it," she replied.  "No man can tell how he will
+change."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll never change," he replied.  "I think I'll say 'good-night' now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, dear! you aint going?  Well, you shan't go until I have had my
+say.  I just wanted to know the truth; now I know it.  Look here, Jim;
+I am your friend, and I am Alison Reed's friend.  There is nothing I
+wouldn't do for either of you.  Alison must be cleared of the shameful
+thing she was accused of in the shop to-day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will be cleared," said Jim; "that is my business.  Good-night,
+Louisa; I must go home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One minute first.  I'll help you to clear Miss Reed.  Will you sit
+next me at dinner to-morrow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is as you like," replied Jim.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Please do," she added; "I'll have made a plan by then.  Yes, Alison
+must be cleared.  It seems to me that it is more a woman's work than a
+man's."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, it is my work," said Jim.  "But I'll sit next to you with
+pleasure; it is nothing to me one way or other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Louisa's eyes drooped; an angry color flooded her face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim held out his hand; she gave hers: the next minute the two young men
+were again in the street.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Sampson, "we have done good business, have we not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't see it," replied Jim.  "Louisa is innocent.  I don't like her,
+but she has had no more to do with that affair than I have had; so
+there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Louisa Clay is guilty," replied Sampson.  "I may not be able to prove
+it either to-day or to-morrow, but I will prove it before long.  You
+leave this matter in my hands, Jim."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hate the whole thing," said Jim; "it seems awfully hard to drag
+another girl into it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I don't believe in your sort of love," sneered Sampson; "but
+mark my words: Louisa is the one what took that money.  I have got a
+footing in the house now, and I can work the thing and prove that I am
+right in my own way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't believe a word of it," said Jim.  "Don't drag me into it any
+further, Sampson, whatever you do."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap05"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER V.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Soon after the departure of the two young men, the rest of the guests
+left the Clays' house.  There was no special run on the pawnshop that
+night.  Saturday night was the real night for business; then work went
+on until far into the small hours of the morning, and Louisa was
+obliged to turn to and help her father, but to-night there was nothing
+to prevent her going to bed.  She lit her candle in the hall, and
+turned to say "good-night" to her parents.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's a likely young man wot came here to-night," said the mother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What young man?" asked Louisa, her eyes flashing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Mr. Sampson; they say he's right well off.  Don't you know who he
+is, Loo?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, that I don't," answered Louisa.  "I never set eyes on him before.
+I thought he was just a friend of Jim Hardy's.  I thought it was Jim
+you spoke of, mother, when you mentioned a likely young man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Jim! he's well enough," said Mrs. Clay.  "I don't go for to deny
+that 'e's handsome to look at, but my thought is this, 'andsome is as
+'andsome does.  Now, that young man Sampson, as you call him, will make
+his fortin' some fine day.  He's in the private detective line, and
+your father says there aint a sharper man in the trade.  A sharp
+detective makes his fortin' in these days, no doubt on that p'int."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Louisa's face slightly lost its color; a puzzled expression, an almost
+frightened look, crept into her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So George Sampson is a detective," she said slowly; "a detective, and
+he is a friend of Jim's.  I wonder why he came here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why he come 'ere!" said the old woman.  "Why do any young men come
+'ere?  Oh, we needn't say why; but we know.  Good-night, child,
+good-night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-night, mother," said the daughter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went upstairs to her own good-sized bedroom, just over the
+pawnshop.  She occupied the best bedroom in the house.  She set her
+candle on her chest of drawers now, and sat down where she could see
+her handsome, striking-looking figure in the looking-glass.  There was
+a long glass in the door of her wardrobe, and there she could see her
+reflection from head to foot.  The red dress suited her well; it
+accentuated the carmine in her cheeks, and brought out the brilliancy
+of her eyes.  She pushed back her mass of black hair from her low brow,
+and gazed hard at her own image.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," she said to herself, "I am handsome.  Ef I were a lady I'd be a
+queen.  I'm handsome enough for anythink.  But what do it matter!  Good
+Lor', what do <I>anythink</I> matter when you can't get what you are
+breaking your heart for!  I'd give all the world for Jim, and Jim don't
+care nothink for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She sighed heavily.  Presently she drew herself upright, pushed her
+chair back so that she could no longer see her image in the glass,
+placed her two elbows on the table, pressed her cheeks down on her open
+palms, and thought hard.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why did that man, George Sampson, come here to-night?" she said to
+herself.  "Did Jim bring him knowing that he is a detective; did he
+bring him because he suspects me?  Oh, he couldn't suspect me; Jim aint
+that mean sort.  Still, I don't like Sampson; I don't like his coming
+'ere; I don't like the way he fixes me with his ferret eyes.  Jim is
+mad about Alison.  He can't suspect me, of course; but he is mad about
+it all.  He is half broken-hearted, and he thinks less of me than ever.
+Oh, Jim, Jim! and I do love you so terrible bad.  Why don't you love me
+even a little bit back again?  I'd be good ef you loved me; I know I'd
+be good.  What is there in Alison Reed for you nearly to die for her?
+She aint got my looks, she aint got my eyes, she aint got my bit of
+money.  I'm handsome, and I know it, and I'll have a tidy lot of money
+when I'm married, for father tells me so.  What is Alison compared to
+me?  Oh, nothing, nothing at all!  just a mealy-faced, white-cheeked
+slip of a girl.  But somehow or other he loves her, and he don't love
+me a bit; I'd do anything under the sun to win him.  Why to-day, to-day
+I did a <I>crime</I>, and 'twas for him, 'twas to win him; and, after all, I
+failed.  Oh, yes, I saw it to-night, I failed horribly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Louisa pressed her hands to her aching eyes; tears rose and smarted her
+eyelids; they rolled down her cheeks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm fit to kill myself!" she cried.  "I did a crime for Jim, and I
+dragged a girl into it, and I failed.  Yes, I'll be straight with
+myself, I did it for him.  Oh, God knows what I've suffered lately, the
+mad fire and the pain that has been eating me here," she pressed her
+hand to her breast; "and then to-day I was passing the desk and I saw
+the note, not in the till, but lying on the floor, and no one saw me,
+and it flashed on me that perhaps Alison would be accused, and anyhow
+that the money would come in handy.  Shaw thought he put the note into
+the till, but he never did.  It fell on the floor, and 'twas open, and
+I picked it up.  I have it now; no one saw me, for I did it all like a
+flash.  The whole temptation come to me like a flash, and I took the
+money in a twinkling.  And now Alison is accused, and I am the real
+thief.  I did it&mdash;yes, I know why I did it: to turn Jim agen Alison, so
+that I might have a chance to win him for myself.  Yes, I have got the
+money.  I'll jest have a look at it now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Louisa rose as she spoke; she took a key from her pocket, opened a
+small drawer in her wardrobe, and extracted from an old-fashioned purse
+a crumpled five-pound note.  She stared at this innocent piece of paper
+with big, wide-open black eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish I'd never touched it," she said, speaking her thoughts out
+loud.  "But of course Jim couldn't suspect me.  Not a soul saw me when
+I jest stooped and put the paper in my pocket.  No, not a living soul
+saw me.  Shaw had gone away, and Alison was serving a customer, and I
+did it like a flash.  I had a fine time when they accused Alison, and
+she turned first white and then red; but I didn't like it when I saw
+Jim shiver.  Why did he take that vow that he would marry nobody but
+her?  See ef I don't make him break it!  I haven't got my looks for
+nothink, and I don't love, as I love Jim, for nothink.  Yes; I'll win
+him yet&mdash;I have made up my mind.  I think I know a way of blinding that
+detective's eyes.  I'll jest let him think that I like him&mdash;that I'm
+losing my heart to him.  <I>That 'll</I> fetch him!  He aint married; I know
+he aint, from the way he spoke.  I can soon turn a feller like that
+round my little finger.  Trust <I>me</I> to blind his eyes.  As to Jim! oh,
+Jim, you <I>can't</I> guess wot I done; it aint in you to think meanly of a
+gel.  Why, Jim, I could even be <I>good</I> for a man like you; but there!
+now that I have done this thing I can't be good, so there is nothink
+for me but to go on being as bad as possible; only some day&mdash;some day,
+if I win yer, perhaps I'll tell yer all.  No, no; what am I saying?  Of
+course you must never know.  You'd hate me if I were fifty times yer
+wife, ef yer knew the bitter, bitter truth.  Alison is nothing at all
+to me; I don't care whether she breaks her heart or not, but I do care
+about Jim.  It is Jim I want.  I'd make him a right good wife, for I
+love him so well&mdash;yes, I will get him yet&mdash;I vow it; and perhaps my
+vow, being a woman's, may be stronger than his."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Louisa undressed slowly and got into bed.  Her conscience was too hard
+to trouble her; but the thought of Jim and his despair stood for some
+time between her and sleep.  She was tired out, for the day had been
+full of excitement, but it was quite into the small hours before her
+tired eyes were closed in heavy slumber.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Not far away, in a small flat in Sparrow Street, another girl slept
+also.  This girl had cried herself to sleep; the tears were even still
+wet upon her eyelashes.  Grannie had come into the room and looked at
+Alison.  Alison and Polly slept together in the tiniest little offshoot
+of the kitchen&mdash;it was more a sort of lean-to than a room; the roof
+sloped so much that by the window, and where the little dressing-table
+stood, only a very small person could keep upright.  Grannie belonged
+to the very small order of women.  She always held herself upright as a
+dart, and though it was late now, she did not show any signs of fatigue
+as she stood with a shaded candle looking down at the sleeping girl.
+Alison's face was very pale; once or twice she sighed heavily.  As
+Grannie watched her she raised her arm, pushed back her hair, which lay
+against her cheek, turned round, sighed more deeply than ever, and then
+sank again into unbroken slumber.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She's dreaming of it all," thought the old woman.  "I wonder if Jim,
+bless him, will clear her.  I know he'll do his best.  I believe he's a
+good lad.  I wish Alison would get engaged to him right away.  Jim's
+doing well in the shop, and they might be married and&mdash;dear, dear, I
+<I>wish</I> my hand didn't ache so bad.  Well, there's one good thing about
+it anyway&mdash;I needn't waste time in bed, for sleep one wink with this
+sort of burning pain I couldn't, so I may jest as well set up and put
+that feather-stitching straight.  It's certain true that there aint a
+single thing in the world what hasn't some good p'int about it, and
+here is the good p'int in this pain of mine: I needn't waste the hours
+of darkness laying and doing nothink in bed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie stole out of the room as softly as she had entered.  She shut
+the door behind her without making the least sound; she then lit a
+little lamp, which was much cheaper than gas, saw that it burned trim
+and bright, and set it on the center-table in the kitchen.  The night
+was bitterly cold; the fog had been followed by a heavy frost.  Grannie
+could hear the sharp ringing sound of some horses' feet as they passed
+by, carrying their burdens to the different markets.  It was long past
+twelve o'clock.  The little kitchen was warm, for the stove had burned
+merrily all day.  Grannie opened the door of the stove now and looked
+in.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall I, or shall I not, put on an extry shovelful of coals?" she said
+to herself; "an extry shovelful will keep the heat in all night; I have
+a mind to, for I do perish awful when the heat goes out of the kitchen;
+but there, it would be sinful waste, for coals are hard to get.  Ef
+that doctor were right, and it were really writers' cramp, I mightn't
+be able to earn any more money to buy coals; but of course he aint
+right; how silly of me to be afraid of what's impossible!  Yes, I'll
+put on the coals.  Thank the good Lord, this feather-stitching means a
+real good income to us; and now that Ally can't bring in her eight
+shillings a week, I must work extry hard, but it's false savin' to
+perish of cold when you have it in you to earn good money, so here
+goes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie filled a very tiny shovel, flung the precious coals into the
+opening of the stove, shut it up again, and, taking the cambric from
+the cupboard in the wall, sat down with needle and thread just where
+the full light of the lamp could best fall on her work.  Her right hand
+ached and ached&mdash;it not only ached, but burned; the pain seemed to go
+up her arm; it sometimes gave her a sort of sick feeling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course it's rheumatis," she said to herself.  "Well now, what a
+silly I am!  Why don't I try the liniment?  There, I'll rub some on
+afore I begin to work."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She took the bottle from the mantelpiece, opened it, and poured a
+little of the mixture into the palm of her left hand.  The liniment was
+hot and comforting; it smarted a little, and relieved the dull inside
+pain.  Grannie found herself able to move her thumb and forefinger
+without much difficulty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There!" she said; "it's stiffening of the j'ints I'm getting.  This
+liniment is fine stuff.  I must be very careful of it, though; why, I'm
+a sight better already.  Now then, first to wash my 'ands, and then to
+unpick the feather-stitching poor Ally did to-day.  Poor darlin', she
+couldn't be expected to do it proper, but I'll soon set it right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Reed poured some warm water from the tap into the basin beneath,
+washed her old hands very carefully, dried them well, and sat down in
+quite a cheerful mood in her warm, snug, bright little kitchen to
+unpick Alison's work.  The liniment had really eased the pain.  She was
+able to grasp without any discomfort the very finely pointed scissors
+she was obliged to use, and after an hour and a half of intricate
+labor, during which she strained her old eyes in order to avoid cutting
+the delicate cambric, she had at last undone the mischief which Alison
+had caused that day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now then, here we are, as straight as possible," she said aloud, in
+her cheery way.  "It's wonderful how fresh I do feel, and this hand's a
+sight better.  I declare it's a sort of Providence that the old don't
+want much sleep&mdash;why, the church clock has gone two, and I aint a bit
+drowsy.  I know what I'll do, I'll work till five, that's three hours;
+then I'll go to bed till seven.  My hand's so comfortable that I'm sure
+to sleep like a top, and seven is time enough for me to rise.  Two
+hours aint such a bad lot of sleep for a woman of my years.  Let's see,
+I'm sixty-eight.  In one sense sixty-eight is old, in another sense
+it's young.  You slack down at sixty-eight; you don't have such a draw
+on your system, the fire inside you don't seem to require such poking
+up and feeding.  When you get real old, seventy-eight or eighty, then
+you want a deal of cosseting; but sixty-eight is young in one sense of
+the word.  This is the slack time&mdash;this is the time when you live real
+cheap.  What a deal of mercies I have, to be sure; and them beautiful
+grandchildren, so fat and hearty, and Alison and me to keep the house
+so snug, and tight, and neat, and not a debt in the world.  Now, then,
+I expect I'll get a lot of work through in these three hours.  I can
+set up for the next few nights, till Ally gets her place back again,
+and make up all the difference, and more, that her eight shillings a
+week brings in.  Oh, thank the Lord, it's wonderful fortinit that I've
+come to the easy time of life.  If I were younger now, I must have my
+sleep; but at sixty-eight you, so to speak, slacks down your fire, and
+<I>werry</I> little keeps it goin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Grannie thought these last vigorous and contented thoughts, she
+pulled the lamp nearer, seized her needle and thread, and commenced her
+feather-stitching.  For the first quarter of an hour or twenty minutes
+the work went well&mdash;the mysterious twists, and turns, and darts, and
+loops were all made with fidelity and exactitude&mdash;the lovely crinkled
+ornament stood out boldly on the delicate cambric.  Grannie looked at
+her work with intense pride and happiness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a fortin'&mdash;I do wish that gel would learn it.  Why, ef the two of
+us were at it, she'd make a sight more than she do in the shop.  I
+declare I'll give her a lesson to-morrow&mdash;&mdash;  Oh, my God! what's that?
+Oh, my God, help me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The needle fell through her powerless fingers; the finger and thumb
+were drawn apart, as though they had not the power to get together
+again.  Grannie gazed at her right hand in a sort of panic.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There; it has happened once or twice afore," she said to
+herself&mdash;"that dreadful prick and stab, and then all the power goin'
+sudden-like&mdash;of course it's rheumatis&mdash;there, I've no cause to be
+frightened; it's passing off; only it do make me sick and faint.  I'll
+have a cup of tea and then another rub of the liniment."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The great agony frightened her very much; it took some of her high
+spirits away.  She rose slowly, and made her tea, drank it off scalding
+hot, and then rubbed some more liniment on the hand.  It was not quite
+so comforting nor quite so warming this time as it was on the former
+occasion.  She washed her hands again, and set to work.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, good Lord, give me strength!" she murmured, as she seized her
+needle and thread.  "Think of all the children, Lord, and the little
+ones so fat and well fed; remember me, good Lord, and take the
+rheumatis away, <I>ef</I> it's your good will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She took up her needle with renewed courage, and once more began to
+perform those curious movements of wrist and hand which were necessary
+to produce the feather-stitching.  In ten minutes the pain returned,
+the powerless finger and thumb refused to grasp the needle.  Large
+drops of sweat stood out now on Grannie's forehead.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wot do it mean?" she said to herself.  "I never heerd tell of
+rheumatis like this, and for certain it aint writers' cramp, for I
+never write.  Oh, what an awful sort of thing writing is, when a letter
+once in six months knocks you over in this way.  Dear, dear, I'm
+a-shaking, but I 'a' done a nice little bit, and it's past three
+o'clock.  I'll go to bed.  The doctor spoke a deal about rest; I didn't
+mind him much.  He was all wrong about the pain, but perhaps he were
+right about the rest, so I'll go straight to bed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie carefully slacked down the fire, put out the lamp, and stole
+into the little bedroom which she shared with the two younger children.
+Harry and David were already asleep in the lean-to at the other side of
+the kitchen, the opposite room to Alison's.  The well-fed children in
+Grannie's bed breathed softly in their happy slumbers; the little old
+woman got in between them and lay down icy cold, and trembling a good
+deal.  The children slept on, but the little woman lay awake with her
+wide-open eyes staring straight into the darkness, and the dreadful
+pain in hand and arm banishing all possibility of slumber.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap06"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VI.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+In the morning Grannie got up as usual.  She was very white and shaky,
+but she had no intention of complaining.  The pain from which she was
+suffering had somewhat abated, but the poor hand and arm felt tired and
+very feeble.  She longed for the comfort of a sling, but decided not to
+wear one; the children would all notice it and pass remarks, and
+Grannie could not bear to be commented upon.  She did not want to add
+trouble to trouble just now.  She resolved to forget herself in
+thoughts of Alison and the others.  She was early in the kitchen, but
+to her relief and pleasure found David there before her.  Next to
+Alison, David was Grannie's favorite.  He was thoughtful and
+considerate.  He was a great big manly fellow, but there was also a
+very sweet feminine element in him; he could be domestic without being
+in the least girlish.  He was devoted to Grannie, and often, tired as
+he was when he went to bed, got up early in the morning to save her
+work.  He had turned on the gas, and the first thing he noticed now,
+when she came in, was her worn, puckered little face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Grannie, you are out of sorts," he said.  "Why did you get up so
+early?  Surely Ally and me can manage the bit of work.  But, I say, you
+are all of a tremble.  Set down, and I'll get ye a cup of tea in a
+minute."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Dave, no!" said the old woman, "'twill soon pass&mdash;'twill soon
+pass; the rheumatis in my hand and arm has been bothering me all night,
+and it makes me a bit shaky; but 'twill soon pass, Dave.  We mustn't
+waste the tea, you know, lad; and I won't have a cup&mdash;no, I won't."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, set there and rest," said the young man.  "Thank goodness, I
+aint ashamed to work, and I'm real proud to put the kitchen straight
+and tidy.  See how bright the fire is already; you warm your toes,
+Grannie, and you'll soon be better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I will, to be sure," said Mrs. Reed, rubbing her hands and sinking
+into the chair which David had brought forward.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She gazed into the cheery flames, with her own bright-blue eyes, clear
+and steady.  Then she looked straight up at David, who was in the act
+of filling the kettle and placing it on the top of the stove.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"David," she said, "stoop down a minute; I have a word or two to say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David dropped on his knees at once, and put his hand on Grannie's
+shoulder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You aint likely to have a rise in your wages soon, are you, Dave?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, yes, I am! arter a bit," he answered.  "Mr. Groves is real pleased
+with me.  He says I am a steady lad, and he often sets me to cast up
+accounts for him, and do little odds and ends of jobs.  He says he has
+always railed against the School Board, but sometimes, when he sees how
+tidy I can write, and how well I can read and spell, he's inclined to
+change his mind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what rise will he give?" said Grannie, whose mind was entirely
+fixed on the money part of the question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, maybe a shilling more a week, when the first year is out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And that 'll be&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Next March, Grannie; not so long coming round."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," she replied, "yes."  In spite of herself, her voice had a sad
+note in it.  "Well, you see, Dave, you can't keep yourself on half a
+crown a week."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish I could," he answered, looking dispirited, "but I thought you
+were content.  Is there anything that worries you, old lady?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, that there aint, my brave boy.  You stick to your work and please
+your master; you're safe to get on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish I could support myself," said David.  "I wish I knew shorthand;
+that's the thing.  A lad who knows shorthand, and can write and spell
+as well as I can, can earn his ten shillings a week easy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ten shillings a week," said Grannie.  "Lor' save us, what a power of
+money!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's true," said David; "there's a lad who was at school with me&mdash;his
+name was Phil Martin&mdash;he managed to pick up shorthand, and he's earning
+ten shillings a week now.  He's a bit younger than I am, too.  He won't
+be fifteen for two months yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shorthand?" said Grannie, in her reflective voice; "that's writing,
+aint it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, to be sure, Grannie; only a different sort of writing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Still, you call it writing, don't you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure I do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, for the Lord's sake, don't have anythink to do with it, David.
+Ef there is a mischievous, awful thing in the world, it's handwriting.
+I only do it twice a year, and it has finished me, my lad&mdash;it has
+finished me out and out.  No, don't talk of it&mdash;keep your half a crown
+a week, and don't be tempted with no handwriting, short or long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David looked puzzled and distressed; Grannie's words did not amuse him
+in the least&mdash;they were spoken with great passion, with a rising color
+in the little old cheeks, and a flash of almost fever in the bright
+eyes.  Grannie had always been the perfect embodiment of health and
+strength to all the grandchildren, and David did not understand her
+this morning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Still," he said, "I can't agree with you about shorthand; it's a grand
+thing&mdash;it's a trade in itself; but there's no chance of my getting to
+know it, for I aint got the money.  Now, hadn't I better get breakfast?
+Ally will be out in a minute."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no; there's time enough.  Look here, Dave, Harry must leave school
+altogether&mdash;he's old enough, and he has passed the standard.  He must
+earn somethink.  Couldn't he go as one of them messenger boys?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps so, Grannie; but why are you in such a hurry?  Harry's really
+clever; he's got more brains than any of us, and he earns a shilling or
+so a week now in the evenings helping me with the figures at Mr.
+Groves'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think Mr. Groves would take him on altogether, Dave?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, he'd do better as a messenger boy&mdash;but don't hurry about him
+leaving school.  He'd best stay until midsummer, then he'll be fit for
+anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Midsummer," said the old woman to herself, "midsummer!  Oh, good Lord!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She bent her head down to prevent David seeing the tears which suddenly
+softened her brave eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's all this fuss about Alison?" said David suddenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At these words Grannie rose to her feet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing," she said, "nothing&mdash;it's nothing more than what I'd call a
+storm in a tea-cup.  They have lost a five-pound note at Shaw's and
+they choose, the Lord knows why, to put the blame on our Ally.  Of
+course they'll find the note, and Ally will be cleared."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It seems a pity she left the shop," said David.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pity!" said Mrs. Reed.  "You don't suppose that Ally is a Phipps and a
+Reed for nothink.  We 'old our heads high, and we'll go on doing so.
+Why, Dave, they think a sight of Alison in that shop.  Mr. Shaw knows
+what she's worth; he don't believe she's a thief, bless her!
+Yesterday, when I went to see him, he spoke of her as genteel as you
+please, and he wanted her back again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then why, in the name of goodness, doesn't she go?" said David.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Being a Phipps and Reed, she couldn't," replied Grannie.  "We, none of
+us, can humble ourselves&mdash;'taint in us&mdash;the breed won't allow it.  Ally
+was to say she was sorry for having done nothing at all, and, being a
+Phipps and a Reed, it wasn't to be done.  Don't talk any more about it,
+lad.  Shaw will be going on his knees to have her back in a day or two;
+but I have a thought in my head that she may do better even than in the
+shop.  There, you've comforted me, my boy&mdash;you are a real out-and-out
+comfort to me, David."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad of that," said the young fellow.  "There's no one like you
+to me&mdash;no one."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He kissed her withered cheek, which was scarcely like an apple this
+morning, being very pale and weary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Grannie," he said, "is it true that Ally is going to marry Jim Hardy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's true that Jim Hardy wants her to marry him," replied Grannie.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder if he does?" replied David, in a thoughtful voice.  "They say
+that Clay's daughter is mad for Jim, and she'll have a tidy sight of
+money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She may be as mad as she pleases, but she won't get Jim.  Now, do
+hurry on with the breakfast.  What a lad you are for chattering!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Poor David, who had certainly been induced to chatter by Grannie
+herself, made no response, but rose and set about his work as
+kitchen-maid and cook with much deftness.  He stirred the oatmeal into
+the pot of boiling water, made the porridge, set the huge smoking dish
+on the center of the table, put the children's mugs round, laid a
+trencher of brown bread and a tiny morsel of butter on the board, and
+then, having seen that Grannie's teapot held an extra pinch of tea, he
+poured boiling water on it, and announced the meal as ready.  The
+younger children now came trooping in, neat and tidy and ready for
+school.  Grannie had trained her little family to be very orderly.  As
+the children entered the room they came up to her one by one, and
+bestowed a kiss on her old lips.  Her salutation to them was always
+simple and always the same: "Bless you, Polly; bless you, Susie; bless
+you, Kitty."  But immediately after the blessing came sharp, quick
+words.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, no dawdling; set down and be quick about it&mdash;sup up your porridge
+without letting a drop of it get on your clean pinafores, or I'll smack
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie never did smack the children, so this last remark of hers had
+long fallen flat.  Alison came in almost immediately after the
+children, and then, after a longer interval, Harry, looking red and
+sleepy, took his place by the table.  Harry was undoubtedly the black
+sheep of the family.  Both Alison and David bestowed on him one or two
+anxious glances, but Grannie was too absorbed in some other thought to
+take much notice of him this morning.  Immediately after breakfast the
+children knelt down, and Grannie repeated the Lord's Prayer aloud.
+Then came a great scampering and rushing about.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-by, Grannie&mdash;good-by, Ally," came from several pairs of lips.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then a clatter downstairs, then a silence&mdash;even David had gone away.
+On ordinary occasions Alison would have departed quite an hour before
+the children, as she always had to be at the shop in good time to
+display her excellent taste in the dressing of the windows.  To-day she
+and Grannie were left behind together.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't look well, Grannie," began the young girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, listen, Alison," said Mrs. Reed, speaking in quite a tart voice,
+"ef you want to really vex me, you'll talk of my looks.  I'm at the
+slack time o' life, and a little more color or a little less don't
+matter in the least.  Ef I were forty and looked pale, or eighty and
+looked pale, it might be a subject to worry 'em as love me; being
+sixty-eight, I have let off pressure, so to speak, and it don't matter,
+not one little bit, whether I'm like a fresh apple or a piece o' dough.
+I am goin' out marketing now, and when I come back I'll give you a
+fresh lesson in that feather-stitching."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A dismayed look crept into Alison's face; she raised her delicate brows
+very slightly, and fixed her clear blue eyes on Grannie.  She was about
+to speak, but something in the expression on Grannie's face kept her
+silent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You clear up and have the place tidy against I come back," said the
+little woman.  "You might make the beds, and set everything in
+apple-pie order, ef you've a mind to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She then walked into her little bedroom, and shut the door behind her.
+In three minutes she was dressed to go out, not in the neat drawn
+black-silk bonnet, but in an old straw one which had belonged to her
+mother, and which was extremely obsolete in pattern.  This bonnet had
+once been white, but it was now of the deepest, most dingy shade of
+yellow-brown.  It had a little band of brown ribbon round it, which
+ended neatly in a pair of strings; these were tied under Grannie's
+chin.  Instead of her black cashmere shawl she wore one of very rough
+material and texture, and of a sort of zebra pattern, which she had
+picked up cheap many and many years ago from a traveling peddler.  She
+wore no gloves on her hands, but the poor, swollen, painful right hand
+was wrapped in a corner of the zebra shawl.  On her left arm she
+carried her market basket.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-by, child," she said, nodding to her granddaughter.  Then she
+trotted downstairs and out into the street.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was no fog to-day&mdash;the air was keen and bright, and there was
+even a very faint attempt at some watery sunbeams.  There wasn't a
+better bargainer in all Shoreditch than Mrs. Reed, but to-day her
+purchases were very small&mdash;a couple of Spanish onions, half a pound of
+American cheese, some bread, a tiny portion of margarine&mdash;and she had
+expended what money she thought proper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was soon at home again, and dinner was arranged.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I may as well get the dinner," said Alison, rising and taking the
+basket from the old woman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear, there aint nothing to get; it's all ready.  The children must
+have bread for dinner to-day.  I bought a stale quartern loaf&mdash;I got a
+penny off it, being two days old; here's a nice piece of cheese; and
+onions cut up small will make a fine relish.  There, we'll put the
+basket in the scullery; and now, Alison, come over to the light and
+take a lesson in the feather-stitching."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison followed Mrs. Reed without a word.  They both took their places
+near the window.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thread that needle for me, child," said the old woman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison obeyed.  Mrs. Reed had splendid sight for her age; nothing had
+ever ailed her eyes, and she never condescended to wear glasses, old as
+she was, except by lamplight.  Alison therefore felt some surprise when
+she was invited to thread the needle.  She did so in gloomy and solemn
+silence, and gave it back with a suppressed sigh to her grandmother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think there's much use, Grannie," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Much use in wot?" said Mrs. Reed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In my learning that feather-stitching&mdash;I haven't it in me.  I hate
+needlework."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Ally!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie raised her two earnest eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All women have needlework in 'em if they please," she said; "it's born
+in 'em.  You can no more be a woman without needlework than you can be
+a man without mischief&mdash;it's born in you, child, the same as bed-making
+is, and cleaning stoves, and washing floors, and minding babies, and
+coddling husbands, and bearing all the smaller worries of life&mdash;they
+are all born in a woman, Alison, and she can no more escape 'em than
+she can escape wearing the wedding-ring when she goes to church to be
+wed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, the wedding-ring! that's different," said Alison, looking at her
+pretty slender finger as she spoke.  "Oh, Grannie, dear Grannie, my
+heart's that heavy I think it 'll break!  I can't see the
+feather-stitching, I can't really."  Her eyes brimmed up with tears.
+"Grannie, don't ask me to do the fine needlework to-day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie's face turned pale.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wouldn't ef I could help it," she said.  "Jest to please me,
+darling, take a little lesson; you will be glad bimeby, you really
+will.  Why, this stitch is in the family, and it 'ud be 'a burning
+shame for it to go out.  Dear, dearie me, Alison, it aint a small thing
+that could make me cry, but I'd cry ef this beautiful stitch, wot come
+down from the Simpsons to the Phippses, and from the Phippses to the
+Reeds, is lost.  You must learn it ef you want to keep me cheerful,
+Ally dear."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I thought I knew it, Grannie," said the girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not to say perfect, love&mdash;the loop don't go right with you, and the
+loop's the p'int.  Ef you don't draw that loop up clever and tight, you
+don't get the quilting, and the quilting's the feature that none of the
+workwomen in West London can master.  Now, see yere, look at me.  I'll
+do a bit, and you watch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie took up the morsel of cambric; she began the curious movements
+of the wrist and hand, the intricate, involved contortions of the
+thread.  The magic loop made its appearance; the quilting stood out in
+richness and majesty on the piece of cambric.  Grannie made three or
+four perfect stitches in an incredibly short space of time.  She then
+put the cambric into her granddaughter's hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, child," she said, "show me what you can do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison yawned slightly, and took up the work without any enthusiasm.
+She made the first correct mystic passage with needle and thread; when
+she came to the loop she failed to go right, and the effect was bungled
+and incomplete.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not that way; for mercy's sake, don't twist the thread like that!"
+called Grannie, in an agony.  "Give it to me; I'll show yer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It seemed like profanation to see her exquisite work tortured and
+murdered.  She snatched the cambric from Alison, and set to work to
+make another perfect stitch herself.  At that moment there came the
+sudden and terrible pain&mdash;the shooting agony up the arm, followed by
+the partial paralysis of thumb and forefinger.  Grannie could not help
+uttering a suppressed groan; her face turned white; she felt a passing
+sense of nausea and faintness; the work dropped from her hand; the
+perspiration stood on her forehead.  She looked at Alison with
+wide-open, pitiful eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wot is it, Grannie&mdash;what is it, darlin'?  For God's sake, wot's
+wrong?" said the girl, going on her knees and putting her arms round
+the little woman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's writers' cramp, honey, writers' cramp, and me that never writes
+but twice a year; it's starvation, darlin'.  Oh, darlin', darlin', it's
+starvation&mdash;that's ef you don't learn the stitch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All of a sudden Grannie's fortitude had given way; she sobbed and
+sobbed&mdash;not in the loud, full, strong way of the young and vigorous,
+but with those low, suppressed, deep-drawn sobs of the aged.  All in a
+minute she felt herself quite an old and useless woman&mdash;she, who had
+been the mainspring of the household, the breadwinner of the family!
+All of a sudden she had dropped very low.  Alison was full of
+consternation, but she did not understand grief like Grannie's.  She
+was at one end of life, and Grannie was at the other; the old woman
+understood the girl&mdash;having past experience to guide her&mdash;but the girl
+could not understand the old woman.  It was a relief to Grannie to tell
+out her fear, but Alison did not comprehend it; she was full of pity,
+but she was scarcely full of sympathy.  It seemed impossible for her to
+believe that Grannie's cunning right hand was going to be useless, that
+the beautiful work must stop, that the means of livelihood must cease,
+that the old woman must be turned into a useless, helpless log&mdash;no
+longer the mainspring, but a helpless addition to the strained
+household.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison could not understand, but she did her best to cheer Grannie up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There, there," she said; "of course that doctor was wrong.  In all my
+life I never heard of such a thing as writers' cramp.  Writers'
+cramp!&mdash;it's one of the new diseases, Grannie, that doctors are just
+forcing into the world to increase their earnings.  I heard tell in the
+shop, by a girl what knows, that every year doctors push two new
+diseases into fashion, so as to fill their pockets.  But for them, we'd
+never have had influenza, and now it's writers' cramp is to be the
+rage.  Well, let them as writes get it; but you don't write, you know,
+Grannie."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's wot I say," replied Grannie, cheering up wonderfully.  "No one
+can get a disease by writing two letters in a year.  I don't suppose it
+is it, at all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sure it isn't," said Alison; "but you are just tired out, and must
+rest for a day or two.  It's a good thing that I'm at home, for I can
+rub your hand and arm with that liniment.  You'll see, you'll be all
+right again in a day or two."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure I will," said Grannie; "twouldn't be like my luck ef I
+warn't."  But all the same she knew in her heart of hearts that she
+would not.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap07"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VII.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Both Alison and Mrs. Reed were quite of the opinion that, somehow or
+other, the affair of the five-pound note would soon be cleared up.  The
+more the two women talked over the whole occurrence, the more certain
+they were on that point.  When Grannie questioned her carefully, Alison
+confessed that while she was attending to her two rather troublesome
+customers, it would have been quite within the region of possibility
+for someone to approach the till unperceived.  Of course Alison had
+noticed no one; but that would not have prevented the deed being done.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The more I think of it, the more certain I am it's that Clay girl,"
+said Grannie.  "Oh, yes, that Clay girl is at the bottom of it.  I'll
+tell Jim so the next time he calls."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I don't expect Jim to call&mdash;at least at present," said Alison,
+heaving a heavy sigh, and fixing her eyes on the window.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And why not, my dearie, why shouldn't you have the comfort of seeing
+him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It aint a comfort at present, Grannie; it is more than I can bear.  I
+won't engage myself to Jim until I am cleared, and I love him so much,
+Grannie, and he loves me so much that it is torture to me to see him
+and refuse him; but I am right, aint I?  Do say as I'm right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Coming of the blood of the Simpsons, the Phippses and Reeds, you can
+do no different," said Grannie, in a solemn tone.  "You'll be cleared
+werry soon, Alison, for there's a God above, and you are a poor orphin
+girl, and we have his promise that he looks out special for orphins;
+oh, yes, 'twill all come right, and in the meantime you might as well
+take a lesson in the feather-stitching."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But though Grannie spoke with right good faith, and Alison cheered up
+all she could, things did not come right.  The theft was not brought
+home to the wicked Clay girl, as Grannie now invariably called her;
+Shaw did not go on his knees to Alison to return; and one day Jim, who
+did still call at the Reeds' notwithstanding Alison's prohibition,
+brought the gloomy tidings that Shaw was seeing other girls with a view
+to filling up Alison's place in the shop.  This was a dark blow indeed,
+and both Alison and Grannie felt themselves turning very pale, and
+their hearts sinking, when Jim brought them the unpleasant news.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Set down, Jim Hardy, set down," said Grannie, but her lips trembled
+with passion as she spoke.  "I don't want to see anyone in my house
+that I don't offer a chair to, but I can't think much of your detective
+powers, lad, or you'd have got your own gel cleared long ere this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I aint his own girl, and he knows it," said Alison, speaking pertly
+because her heart was so sick.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim hardly noticed her sharp words&mdash;he was feeling very depressed
+himself&mdash;he sank into the chair Grannie had offered him, placed his big
+elbows on his knees, pushed his huge hands through his thick hair, and
+scratched his head in perplexity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's an awful mystery, that it is," he said; "there aint a person in
+the shop as don't fret a bit for Ally&mdash;she was so bright and
+genteel-looking; and no one thinks she's done it.  If only, Alison, you
+hadn't gone away so sharp, the whole thing would have blown over by
+now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Coming of the blood&mdash;&mdash;" began Grannie; but Alison knew the conclusion
+of that sentence, and interrupted her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bygones is bygones," she said, "and we have got to face the future.
+I'll look out for another post to-day; I'll begin to study the papers,
+and see what can be done.  It aint to be supposed that this will crush
+me out and out, and me so young and strong."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you'll have to get a character," said Jim, whose brow had not
+relaxed from the deep frown which it wore.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison gave her head another toss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must do my best," she said.  She evidently did not intend to pursue
+the subject further with her lover.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim was not at all an unobservant man.  He had seen many signs which
+distressed him, both in Grannie's face and Alison's; he knew also that
+Harry had been taken from school quite a year too soon; he knew well
+that Alison's bread winnings were necessary for the family, and that it
+was impossible to expect an old body like Grannie to feed all those
+hungry mouths much longer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Look here," he said, rising suddenly to his feet, "I have got
+something to say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, dear, dear, why will you waste our time?" said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It aint waste, and you have got to listen&mdash;please, Mrs. Reed, don't go
+out of the room; I want you to hear it too.  Now, you look at me,
+Alison Reed.  I am big, aint I, and I'm strong, and I earn good wages,
+right good&mdash;for a man as isn't twenty-five yet.  I'm getting close on
+two pounds a week now, and you can see for yourselves that that's a
+good pile."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bless us!" said Grannie, "it's a powerful heap of money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm getting that," said Jim, with a sort of righteous pride on
+his face, "and no one who knows what's what could complain of the same.
+Now, this is what I'm thinking.  I am all alone in the world; I haven't
+kith nor kin belonging to me, only an uncle in Australia, and he don't
+count, as I never set eyes on him.  I'd have never come to London but
+for father and mother dying off sudden when I was but a bit of a lad.
+I'm sort of lonely in the evenings, and I want a wife awful bad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, there's Louisa Clay, and she's willing," said Alison, who,
+notwithstanding that her heart was almost bursting, could not restrain
+her flippant tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim gave her a steady look out of his dark gray eyes, but did not
+reply.  She lowered her own eyes then, unable to bear their true and
+faithful glance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What I say is this," said Jim, "that I know you, Alison; you aint no
+more a thief than I am.  Why shouldn't you come home to me?  Why
+shouldn't you make me happy&mdash;and why shouldn't I help the lads and
+Grannie a bit?  You'd have as snug a home as any girl in London; and
+I'd be proud to work for you.  I wouldn't want you to do any more
+shopwork.  Why should we wait and keep everybody wretched just for a
+bit of false pride?  Why should you not trust me, Ally?  And I love
+you, my dear; I love you faithful and true."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish you wouldn't say any more, Jim," said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The note in her voice had changed from sharp petulance to a low sort of
+wail.  She sank on a chair, laid her head on the table which stood
+near, and burst into tears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Grannie, I wish you would try and persuade her," said the young man.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll talk to her," said Grannie; "it seems reasonable enough.  Two
+pounds a week!  Lor' bless us! why, it's wealth&mdash;and ef you love her,
+Jim?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Need you ask?" he answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I needn't; you're a good lad.  Well, come back again, Jim; go away
+now and come back again.  We'll see you at the end of a week, that we
+will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim rose slowly and unwillingly.  Alison would not look at him.  She
+was sobbing in a broken-hearted way behind her handkerchief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see why there should be suspense," he said, as he took up his
+cap.  "It's the right thing to do; everything else is wrong.  And see
+here, Alison, I'll take a couple of the children; they don't cost much,
+I know, and it will be such a help to Grannie."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure, that it will," said Grannie.  "That offer about the
+children is a p'int to be considered.  You go away, Jim, and come back
+again at the end of a week."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The young man gave a loving glance at Alison's sunny head as it rested
+on the table.  His inclination was to go up to her, take her head
+between his hands, raise the tearful face, kiss the tears away, and, in
+short, take the fortress by storm.  But Grannie's presence prevented
+this, and Alison would not once look up.  The old woman gave him an
+intelligent and hopeful glance, and he was obliged to be content with
+it and hurry off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll come again next Tuesday to get my answer," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison murmured something which he did not hear.  The next instant he
+had left the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The moment his footsteps had died away Alison raised her tearful face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You had no right to do it, Grannie," she said.  "It was sort of
+encouraging him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dry your tears now, child," said Mrs. Reed.  "We'll talk of this later
+on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You said yourself I'd have no proper pride to marry Jim at present,"
+continued the girl.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We'll talk of this later on," said Grannie; "the children will be home
+in a minute to tea.  After tea you and me will talk it over while they
+are learning their lessons."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie could be very immovable and determined when she liked.  Having
+lived with her all her life, Alison knew her every mood.  She perceived
+now, by her tightly shut up lips, and the little compression, which was
+scarcely a frown, between her brows, that she could get nothing more
+out of her at present.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She prepared the tea, therefore; and when the children came in she cut
+bread and margerine for them, for butter had long ago ceased to appear
+on Grannie's board.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After tea the children went into Grannie's bedroom to learn their
+lessons, and the old woman and the young found themselves alone.  The
+lamp was lit, and the little room looked very cheerful; it was warm and
+snug.  Grannie sat with her hands before her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought I wouldn't tell you, but I must," she said.  "It's a month
+to-day, aint it, Ally, since you lost your place?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, a month exactly," replied Alison.  "It is close on Christmas now,
+Grannie."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aye," said the old woman, "aye, and Christmas is a blessed, cheerful
+time.  This is Tuesday; Friday will be Christmas Day.  We must have a
+nice Christmas for the children, and we will too.  We'll all be
+cheerful on Christmas Day.  Jim might as well come, whatever answer you
+give him next week.  He's all alone, poor lad, and he might come and
+join our Christmas dinner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But we haven't much money," said Alison.  "We miss what I earned at
+the shop, don't we?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We miss it," said Grannie, "yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She shut up her lips very tightly.  At this moment quick footsteps were
+heard running up the stairs, and the postman's sharp knock sounded on
+the little door.  Alison went to get the letter.  It was for Grannie,
+from a large West End shop; the name of the shop was written in clear
+characters on the flap of the envelope.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie took it carefully between the thumb and finger of her left
+hand&mdash;she used her right hand now only when she could not help it.  No
+one remarked this fact, and she hoped that no one noticed it.  She
+unfastened the flap of the envelope slowly and carefully, and, taking
+the letter out, began to read it.  It was a request from the manager
+that she would call at ten o'clock the following morning to take a
+large order for needlework which was required to be completed in a
+special hurry.  Grannie laid the letter by Alison's side.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison read it.  She had been accustomed to such letters coming from
+that firm to Grannie for several years.  Such letters meant many of the
+comforts which money brings; they meant warm fires, and good meals, and
+snug clothes, and rent for the rooms, and many of the other necessaries
+of life.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said the girl, in a cheery tone, "that's nice.  You have nearly
+finished the last job, haven't you, Grannie?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I aint," said Grannie, with a sort of gasp in her voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought I saw you working at it every day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I have been, and in a sense it is finished and beautiful, I am
+sure; but there aint no feather-stitching.  I can't manage the
+feather-stitching.  I can never featherstitch any more, Alison.  Maybe
+for a short time longer I may go on with plain needlework, but that
+special twist and the catching up of the loop in the quilting part of
+the feather-stitching, it's beyond me, darlin'.  'Taint that I can't
+see how to do it, 'taint that I aint willing, but it's the finger and
+thumb, dearie; they won't meet to do the work proper.  It's all over,
+love, all the money-making part of my work.  It's them letters to
+Australia, love.  Oh, dear! oh, dear!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie laid her white head down on the table.  It was a very sad sight
+to see it there, a much more pathetic sight than it had been to see
+Alison's golden head in the same position an hour or two ago.  There
+was plenty of hope in Alison's grief, heart-broken as it seemed, but
+there was no hope at all in the old woman's despair.  The last time she
+had given way and spoken of her fears to Alison she had sobbed; but she
+shed no tears now&mdash;the situation was too critical.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"<I>Ef</I> you had only learned the stitch," she said to her granddaughter.
+There was a faint shadow of reproach in her tone.  "I can't show it to
+you now; but ef you had only learned it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I do know it," said Alison, in distress.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not proper, dear; not as it should be done.  I fear that I can never
+show you now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And that is why you want me to marry Jim?" said Alison.  "I wonder at
+you, Grannie&mdash;you who have such pride!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are times and seasons," said Grannie, "when pride must give way,
+and it seems to me that we have come to this pass.  I looked at Jim
+when he was talking to-day, and I saw clear&mdash;clear as if in a
+vision&mdash;that he would never cast up to you those words that you dread.
+If you are never cleared of that theft, Alison, Jim will never call his
+wife a thief.  Jim is good to the heart's core, and he is powerful
+rich, and ef you don't marry him, my gel, you'll soon be starving, for
+I can't do the feather-stitching.  I can't honestly do the work.  I'll
+go and see the manager to-morrow morning; but it's all up with me,
+child.  You ought to marry Jim, dear, and you ought to provide a home
+for the two little ones&mdash;for Polly and little Kitty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what's to become of you, Grannie, and Dave, and Harry, and Annie?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Maybe Jim would take Annie too, now that he is so rich."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think it would be right to ask him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I don't; no, I don't.  Well, anyhow, it is good to have half the
+fam'ly put straight.  You will think of it, Ally, you will think of it;
+you've got a whole week to think of it in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will think of it," said Alison, in a grave voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She got up presently; she was feeling very restless and excited.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I'll go out for a bit," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do, child, do; it will bring a bit of color into your cheeks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is there anything I can get for you, Grannie&mdash;anything for Christmas?
+You said we were to be happy till after Christmas."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So we will; I have made up my mind firm on that p'int.  We'll have a
+right good Christmas.  There's three pounds in my purse.  We'll spend
+five shillings for Christmas Day.  That ought to give us a powerful lot
+o' good food.  Oh, yes, we'll manage for Christmas."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is Tuesday," said Alison, "and Christmas Day comes Friday.  Shall
+I get any of the things to-night, Grannie?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie looked up at the tall girl who stood by her side.  She saw the
+restless, agitated expression on the young face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She'll like to have the feel of money in her hands again," thought the
+little woman.  "I'll trust her with a shillin'.  Lor', I hope she'll be
+careful with it.  Twelve pennies can do a mint ef they're spent
+careful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went slowly to her cupboard, took her keys out of her pocket,
+unlocked it with her left hand, and, taking her little purse from a
+secret receptacle at the back of the cupboard, produced a shilling from
+her hoard.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There," she said, "for the Lord's sake don't drop it; put it safe in
+your pocket.  You might get the raisins for the puddin' and the sugar
+and the flour out o' this.  You choose from the bargain counter, and
+use your eyes, and don't buy raisins what have got no fruit in 'em.
+Sometimes at bargain counters they are all skin, and good for nothink;
+but ef you are sharp you can sometimes pick up right good fruity fruit,
+and that's the sort we want.  Now, don't be long away.  Yes, for sure,
+we may as well have the stuff for the puddin' in the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison promised to be careful.  She put on her neat black hat and
+jacket and went out.  She had scarcely gone a hundred yards before she
+came straight up against Louisa Clay.  Louisa looked very stylish in a
+large mauve-colored felt hat, and a fur boa round her neck; her black
+hair was much befrizzed and becurled.  Alison shrank from the sight of
+her, and was about to go quickly by when the other girl drew up
+abruptly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, there you are," she said; "I was jest thinking of coming round to
+see yer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison stood still when she was addressed, but she did not make any
+remark.  Her intention was to go on as soon as ever Louisa had finished
+speaking.  Louisa's own intention was quite different.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I am glad," she continued.  "I have a lot of things to say.  Do
+you know your place is filled up?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes," said Alison, flushing.  "Jim told me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Jim!" repeated Louisa, with a note of scorn.  "Don't you think you are
+very free and easy with Mr. Hardy?  And when did you see him?" she
+added, a jealous light coming into her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was at our house this afternoon.  I must say good-evening now,
+Louisa.  I am in a hurry; I am doing some errands for Grannie."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I don't mind walking a bit o' the way with you.  You are going
+shopping, is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, yes; Christmas is near, you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison felt herself shrinking more and more from Louisa.  She hated her
+to walk by her side.  It irritated her beyond words to hear her speak
+of Jim.  She dreaded more than she could tell Louisa finding out how
+poor they were; nothing would induce her to get the bargain raisins or
+any of the other cheap things in her presence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am rather in a hurry," she said; "perhaps you won't care to go so
+fast."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As it happens, I have nothing special to do.  I'll go with you now, or
+I'll call in by and by and have a chat.  I don't know that old Grannie
+of yours, but folks say she's quite a character.  Jim said so last
+night when he was supping at our house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure he didn't," muttered Alison under her breath angrily; but
+she refrained from making any comment aloud.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Louisa, "you'd like to know what sort of girl is coming to
+Shaw's to take up your work?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think I would," replied Alison; "I am really not interested."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder you care to tell such lies, Alison Reed!  Anyone can tell by
+your face that you are just burning with curiosity and jealousy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mustn't say such things to me," said Alison; "if you do, I won't
+walk with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, my word, how grand we are!" said the other girl; "how high and
+mighty, and all the rest of it!  To be sure, Alison, you were a flat to
+run off the way you did that day.  There is not a person in the shop
+that don't think you guilty, and small blame to 'em, I say.  Poor Jim
+did fret a bit the first day or two, but I think he's pretty happy now;
+he comes to our house constant.  He's very fine company is Jim, he
+sings so well; and did you know he had a turn for acting?  We're
+getting up a little play for Christmas Eve, and Jim's to be the hero;
+I'm the heroine.  My word! it's as pretty a bit of love-making as you'd
+often see.  I tell you what it is, Alison; I'll give you an invitation.
+You shall come and see it; you will now, won't you?  I'll think you're
+devoured with jealousy if you don't.  You will; say you will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison paused for a moment&mdash;a sort of inward rage consumed her.  How
+dared Jim profess such love for her, and yet give up so much of his
+time to Louisa&mdash;how dared he make love to her even in play!  A sudden
+fierce resolve came into her heart.  Yes, she would see the acting&mdash;she
+would judge for herself.  Christmas Eve, that was Thursday
+night&mdash;Thursday was a good way off from Tuesday, the day when she was
+to give Jim her answer.  As she walked now by Louisa's side, she
+guessed what her answer would be&mdash;she would be careful and
+cautious&mdash;oh, yes, she would see for herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will come," she said suddenly, and to Louisa's great surprise&mdash;"I
+will come, if you promise me one thing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't tell Jim Hardy&mdash;don't say anything about it.  When he sees me
+he'll know, but don't tell him beforehand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Louisa burst into a loud, scathing laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To hear you speak, Alison," she said, "one would think that you were
+somebody of consequence to Mr. Hardy.  Oh, dear&mdash;oh, dear, the conceit
+of some folks!  Do you suppose it would make any <I>difference</I> to him
+whether you came or not?  But take my word for it, I won't tell him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you," said Alison.  "Yes, I'll be there.  What time shall I
+come?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The acting begins at nine o'clock, but there's supper first at eight;
+you had best come to supper.  I will put you in a corner where you
+can't get even a sight of Jim's face, then you'll be easy and happy in
+your mind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I won't come to supper, but I'll come in time for the acting.  I
+am very much obliged, I am sure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Louisa gave vent to a great yawn.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seems to me," she said, "that you aint up to much shopping; you
+haven't gone into one shop yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No more I have," said Alison.  "I have changed my mind; I won't buy
+the things I meant to to-night.  I'll go home now; so I'll say
+good-evening."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-evening," said Louisa, accompanying her words with a sweeping
+courtesy which she considered full of style and grace.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went home chuckling to herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess that acting will finish up Alison's love affair," she thought.
+"It won't be any fault of mine if it doesn't.  Oh, good-evening, Mr.
+Sampson."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+George Sampson, who had been looking out for Louisa, now joined her,
+and the two walked back to the pawnshop arm in arm, and talking very
+confidentially together, Louisa had been true to her own
+predictions&mdash;she had so flattered and so assiduously wooed George
+Sampson that he was her devoted slave by this time.  He came to see her
+every night, and had assured Jim Hardy long ago that of all people in
+the world Louisa was the last who had anything to do with the stealing
+of the five-pound note.  Louisa's own charms were the sort which would
+appeal to a man like Sampson, but whether he would have made up his
+mind to marry her, if he did not know that she was safe to have a nice
+little sum down from her father on her wedding-day, remains an open
+question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Alison walked home, many angry and jealous thoughts whirled through
+her brain.  Was Jim really false to her?&mdash;she forgot all about his face
+that afternoon; she forgot his earnest words.  She only recalled
+Louisa's look of triumph and the little play which was to be acted in
+her presence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I'll be there," thought the girl; "yes, Christmas Eve shall
+decide it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She ran upstairs and entered the kitchen.  Grannie and David were
+sitting side by side, engaged in earnest conversation.  David blushed
+when he saw Alison, and suddenly slipped something under the table;
+Grannie patted his arm softly with her left hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, Ally, you are home in double-quick time," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Too quick, is it?" said Alison, taking off her hat and flinging
+herself wearily into the nearest chair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no, my child, never too quick," said the old lady; "and did you
+get a good bargain?" she added the next minute anxiously.  "Were you
+careful in the spending of that shillin'?  Why, I don't see any
+parcels.  For mercy's sake child, don't tell me that you dropped the
+shillin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I didn't, Grannie; here it is.  Somehow I am out of humor for
+bargains to-night&mdash;that's why I come back."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie took back the precious shilling tenderly.  She went to the
+cupboard and restored it to her purse.  As she did so, she gave a sigh
+of relief.  She was full of respect for Alison's powers, but not as a
+bargainer; she was certain she could get a penny-worth more value out
+of the shilling than her grand-daughter would.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dave," she said, turning to the lad as she spoke, "Ally and I have
+made up our minds that, whatever happens, we'll have a right good
+Christmas.  We'll have a puddin' and snap-dragon, and a little bit of
+beef, and everything hot and tasty, and we'll have the stockings hung
+up just as usual by the children's beds; bless 'em, we'll manage it
+somehow&mdash;somehow or other it has got to be done.  Who knows but perhaps
+cheerful times may follow Christmas?  Yes, who knows?  There's never no
+use in being downhearted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose you are thinkin' of a wedding," said Alison suddenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, dear child, and why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's not much chance of it," was the reply, in a defiant tone.
+"Anyhow," continued Alison, "I've made up my mind to look for another
+situation to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie's little white face became clouded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am going to Oxford Street, to a registry office," said Alison.  "I
+know lots about counter work, and I don't doubt that I may get a very
+good place; anyhow, I'm going to try."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, that's sperit, there's no denying that," said the old lady;
+"it's in the breed, and it can't be crushed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"David, what are you hiding under the table?" said Alison, in a fretful
+tone.  She felt too unhappy to be civil to anyone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have got spirit, too, and I'm not ashamed," said David suddenly.
+"It's a bit o' stuff I'm feather-stitching; there&mdash;I am learning the
+stitch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well!" said Alison; "you, a boy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I&mdash;a boy," he replied, looking her full between the eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was something in the fearless glance of his gray eyes that caused
+her to lower her own&mdash;ashamed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dave's the blessing of my life," said Mrs. Reed; "he has learned the
+stitch, and though he do it slow, he do it true and beautiful.  It
+shan't never now die out of the fam'ly."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap08"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER VIII.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Grannie felt that matters had arrived at a crisis.  Whatever the
+doctors chose to call the suffering which she endured, her right hand
+was fast becoming useless.  It was with her right hand that she
+supported her family; if it failed her, therefore, her livelihood was
+cut off.  She was a brave little woman; never in all her long life had
+she feared to look the truth in the face.  She looked at it now quietly
+and soberly.  Night after night she gazed at it as she lay in her tiny
+bed in her tiny bedroom, with a grandchild fast asleep at each side of
+her.  She lay motionless then, in too great pain to sleep, and with the
+future staring at her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+To-night she went to bed as usual.  There was no manner of use in
+sitting up burning lamps and fire; it was far cheaper to lie down in
+the dark in bed.  She lay down and gazed straight out into the deep
+shadows which filled the little room.  It was a moonlight night, and
+some of the moon's rays pierced through the tiny window, but most of
+the room lay in shadow, and it was toward the shadow Grannie turned her
+eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's all true," she said to herself, "there aint no manner of use in
+denying it, or turning my face from it&mdash;it's true&mdash;it's the will o' the
+Lord.  My mother said to me&mdash;her as was a Simpson and married a
+Phipps&mdash;she said when my father died, 'Patty, it's the will o' the
+Lord.'  I didn't like, somehow, to hear her say it&mdash;the will o' the
+Lord seemed so masterful like, so crushing like, so cruel.  And now the
+will o' the Lord has come to me.  It wor the Lord's will to bless me
+all my life hitherto, but now it is his will to make things sore dark.
+Somehow I can't trust and I can't hope, for there's nothing to hope
+for, and there are the children, four of 'em unable to earn their
+bread.  Harry must make shift to do something, but there are three
+little ones.  Oh, good Lord, don't ever let me hear the children cry
+for bread!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Grannie whispered these words out into the darkness, she laid her
+left hand tenderly on the flaxen head of her youngest grandchild.  Her
+hand stroked down the smooth, round head; the child stirred in her
+dreams, murmured "Grannie," and turned over on her other side.  She was
+very well, and very happy&mdash;as plump as a little button&mdash;a bonny,
+bright-eyed creature.  Grannie used to adore her stout legs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Kitty have always been so well fed," she used to say; "that's the
+secret&mdash;there's nothink like it&mdash;nothink."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And she had held the fat baby, and by and by the fat little girl, up
+admiringly for less fortunate neighbors to criticise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Now the fiat had fallen; the bread-winner could no longer earn the
+family meal, and Kitty and the others would have to do without their
+bread and butter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is true, and it must be faced," thought the old woman.  "The p'int
+to be considered now is, how is it to be faced?  Wot's the best way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie thought matters over very carefully.  Before the morning she
+had marked out a line of action for herself.  Christmas Day should come
+and go before any of the dark shadow which filled her own breast should
+descend upon the younger members of the household.  David and Alison
+knew about it, or at least they partly knew, although it was impossible
+for them to quite realize the extent of the disaster.  It was arranged,
+too, that Harry was to leave school, so he also must partly guess that
+something was up; but the little ones had never known sorrow yet, and
+Grannie resolved that they should have a perfect Christmas Day.
+Afterward, if Alison would only consent to marry Jim, half the family
+would be provided for.  For Grannie, although she was proud, had no
+false pride, and she felt that a man who was earning such magnificent
+wages as two pounds a week might undertake the care, at any rate for a
+time, of two little children.  But even granted that Alison and the two
+youngest were off her hands, there were still David, Harry, and Annie
+to provide for.  Grannie could not see her way plain with regard to
+these three members of the family.  She resolved to ask the advice of
+an old clergyman of the name of Williams, who had often before given
+her valuable counsel.  Mr. Williams was most kind; he was full of
+resources; he took a great interest in the poor; he had known Grannie
+for close on twenty years; he might be able to help her in this
+critical moment of her fate, Having made up her mind so far, the little
+woman fell asleep.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When she heard at an early hour the following morning that Alison was
+still fully resolved to seek for a new situation, she suggested that
+she should call at the shop in Regent Street, see the manager, and
+explain to him as best she could that it was out of Grannie's power to
+do any more needlework.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You had best go," said Grannie, looking up at the girl with her bright
+blue eyes, and a determined expression steeling her sweet old mouth
+almost to sternness.  "Jest see the manager, Mr. Squire, and tell him
+the simple truth.  Take him back this underclothing; it is finished
+beautiful all but the feather-stitching.  I know he'll be put out, but
+I suppose he'll give me half pay&mdash;o' course, I don't expec' more.  Ef
+that cambric had been properly feather-stitched there was thirty
+shillings to be got on it; but I'll be glad of fifteen, and you can let
+Mr. Squire know.  I am pleased that Dave knows the stitch, for he can
+teach it to his wife when he gets one.  He have promised, dear lad;
+there's a fortin' in it yet, for a member of the fam'ly wot <I>hasn't</I>
+learned handwriting.  It's them schools wot are at the bottom of all
+this trouble, Alison.  Talk of edication!  My mother, wot was a Simpson
+by birth, could only put a cross agin her name, but Lor', wot a fine
+woman she was with sprigs!&mdash;we called the beginning of the
+feather-stitching sprigs in them days.  It was she invented sprigs, and
+she had no writers' cramp, nor a chance o' it, bless her!  Now then,
+dearie, run off, and bring me back the fifteen shillings.  We'll try to
+keep up 'eart till after Christmas Day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison was very silent and depressed, but she promised to do exactly as
+her grandmother wished in the matter of the feather-stitching; and with
+the cambric made up into a neat parcel she soon left the little flat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie sighed deeply when she saw her go.  The little woman felt that
+she had burned her boats; there was no going back on anything now.  She
+had severed with her own hands her best connection, and nothing could
+ever be the same again.  A sort of agony came over her as she heard
+Alison running downstairs, a fierce desire to call her back, to beg of
+her not to go to Mr. Squire at all that day; but one glance at the
+swollen, useless hand made her change her mind.  She sat down limp on
+the nearest chair, and one or two slow tears trickled out of her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+By dinner time Alison was back; she was full of her own concerns, and
+considered Grannie and the feather-stitching, for the time being, quite
+a secondary matter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The shop is a very good one," she said, "and they want a girl.  If I
+can bring a good character, I am very likely to get the situation.  It
+is twelve shillings a week, four&mdash;four shillings more than Shaw used to
+give me.  If only I can get Shaw to give me a character I'll be all
+right, and on twelve shillings a week we can keep up the house somehow;
+can't we, Grannie?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie pursed up her lips, but did not speak.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She knew far better than Alison that these small wages, although an
+immense help, could not possibly do the work which her
+feather-stitching money had accomplished.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, dearie," she said, after a pause, "I am glad that things are so
+far good; but have you quite made up your mind not to marry poor Jim,
+then, Alison?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no, not quite," she replied, coloring; "but the fact is, I want
+two strings to my bow.  By the way, I did not tell you that the Clays
+have invited me to a party there to-morrow night?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Clays!" exclaimed Grannie.  "Sakes! you aint goin' to them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, but I am.  I have promised."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think the Clays are the sort of people that a girl of your
+breed ought to know, Alison.  Poor as we are, we hold up our heads, and
+why shouldn't we, being&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Grannie, here is your fifteen shillings," interrupted Alison.  "I
+saw Mr. Squire, and he said he was sorry, but he really could not offer
+more, as the feather-stitching was not done."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He were put out, weren't he?" said Grannie, her little face puckered
+up in her intense anxiety to know how Mr. Squire bore the calamity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"After a fashion, yes," said Alison; "but he said the new embroidery
+which is coming in so much would do quite as well, and he knew a woman
+who would do the things in a hurry.  He said: 'Give my compliments to
+Mrs. Reed, and say I am sorry to lose her nice work,' and he paid me my
+money and bowed me out of the shop."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is all over, Grannie," continued the girl, cruel in her severity,
+and not knowing she was stabbing the old woman's heart at every word.
+"You place wonderful store by that feather-stitching, but the new
+embroidery will do quite as well for all the fine ladies, and other
+women will get the money."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, yes," said Grannie, "yes, it is the will o' the Lord.  Somehow,
+that seems to steady me up&mdash;to bear it like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went out of the room tottering a little, but came back quite
+cheerful when the children returned home for the midday meal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After dinner Alison went to see Mr. Shaw.  She did not like this job at
+all, but she knew she had no chance of getting another place unless she
+could induce Shaw to give her a character.  She planned how best to go
+to the shop without being observed by the rest of the shop people.  She
+was too handsome a girl not to have created a great deal of attention
+during her stay at Shaw's, and now, with this story about the theft
+hanging over her head, she would be more interesting and more worthy of
+criticism than ever.  She dreaded beyond words being seen at Shaw's,
+more particularly by Louisa Clay and Jim Hardy.  She crept in by a side
+entrance, and as the shop was very full at this hour (Christmas being
+so close at hand, the crowd this afternoon was denser than ever), she
+managed to escape attention.  She could see without being noticed.  She
+observed Louisa flaunting about the shop, looking very handsome, and on
+every possible occasion appealing to Jim for advice or help.  Jim was
+the walker to-day, and Louisa was always calling him to her on one
+pretext or another.  It seemed to Alison's jealous eyes that the young
+man did not dislike her too-evident attentions.  He always replied to
+her with courtesy, and, according to Alison, stood by her side longer
+than was necessary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must get that situation in Oxford Street," muttered the girl to
+herself.  "I shall feel fit to kill those two if ever they are wed, and
+the further I am off the better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her angry and excited feelings gave her courage, and she was able to
+ask a comparative stranger&mdash;a girl who scarcely knew her&mdash;if she could
+see Mr. Shaw.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid you cannot to-day," was the reply.  "The manager is too
+busy, but if you like to call again&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no, I see him there.  I'll ask him myself," was the reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lor', what cheek!" muttered the new shop-girl; but Alison was too far
+away to hear her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had approached Mr. Shaw as he was wishing one of his customers "A
+Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."  He turned round with a smile on
+his lips.  Things were doing remarkably well, and he could afford to be
+cheerful.  Suddenly his rather staring, bloodshot eyes encountered the
+full gaze of Alison's clear blue ones.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Eh, Miss Reed?" he said, stepping back in astonishment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, sir; can I speak to you?" said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly, my dear, certainly; come this way.  She has found out who
+the thief is, and will come back once more," muttered the manager to
+himself.  "She's the best and most attractive shopwoman I ever had; she
+shall come back immediately after Christmas."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He hurried Alison through the shop into his own little counting-house.
+He shut the door then, and asked her to seat herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How are you?" he said, fixing his eyes with a sort of coarse
+admiration on her face.  "You have got at the truth of this miserable
+matter, have you not?  Now, I wonder who the thief is, eh?  Well, all I
+can say is this: I am right glad that you know.  We miss you, Miss
+Reed, in the shop.  Your services have been of great value to us.  I
+shall have the person who took that money prosecuted; there's not the
+least doubt about that.  Your character will be abundantly cleared, and
+you can resume your post here immediately after the Christmas holidays."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought," said Alison, "that you had got someone else to fill my
+place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I have, so I have&mdash;that Jenkins girl&mdash;the daughter of poor Tom
+Jenkins, who died in the autumn; but, bless you, she's no good; she
+don't even know the meaning of drawing on a customer!  You see, Miss
+Reed, I don't mean to flatter you, but you have got the tact, and just
+when the sales are beginning you will be invaluable.  I can offer you a
+percentage on all the remnants you dispose of.  Come, now, that's a
+bargain; you'll be right welcome back.  You have got tact, and if I may
+be allowed to say so&mdash;<I>looks</I>."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Here the manager gave Alison another broad stare.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By the way, who is the thief?" he continued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You quite misunderstand me, sir," said Alison.  "I have not found the
+thief&mdash;I have not the faintest idea who stole that money; I only know
+that I did not, and that nothing will induce me to set foot again in
+this shop as one of the staff until I am cleared."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then, my good girl, may I ask what in the world you are wasting my
+time for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He approached the door of his tiny counting-house, and half opened it
+as he spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One minute, sir, please.  Although I cannot of course come here, I
+naturally want to get another situation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I dare say; but that is not my affair."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, yes, please, sir, it is!  I have just heard of a very good post in
+Oxford Street.  I saw the manager this morning, and he said that he
+would give me the situation if you could recommend me.  Will you, sir;
+will you give me a character, Mr. Shaw?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have cheek," said Shaw, in a deliberate voice.  "Do you suppose I
+am going to recommend a thief?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, oh, sir, oh, Mr. Shaw, you know I am not that!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know anything of the kind; I only know that you are a brazen,
+unreasonable hussy.  You know perfectly well that when you left here
+you forfeited your character.  Yes, your attitude, let me tell you,
+Miss Reed, cuts both ways.  If you don't choose to come here until you
+are cleared, I don't give you a character until you are cleared.  Come,
+now, that's a fair bargain, is it not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, sir, it is so hard of you!" said Alison.  "Sir, if you would but
+be merciful!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's my last word," said Shaw.  "I must go back to attend to my
+customers."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He left the counting-house abruptly, and Alison did not take long in
+following his example.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is no good, Grannie," she said, when she entered her little home
+half an hour afterward.  "Shaw is as hard as a millstone.  He won't
+give me a character until I am cleared; and, as I never shall be
+cleared, why, I'll never get a character, and I cannot get a situation.
+What is to become of me, Grannie; oh, Grannie, what is to become of me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At these words Alison gave way to the most terrible, overpowering
+grief.  She did not know how to comfort Grannie, but Grannie knew how
+to comfort her.  She patted her as if she were a baby; she stroked her
+soft hair, and kissed her hot cheeks, and laid her head on her own
+little shoulder, and made tea, although the supply in the caddy was
+getting very low, and then talked to her as she knew how, and with
+wonderful cunning and power of Jim, Jim, Jim.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Alison loved Jim this subject could not but be of interest to her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's no other way out of it," said Grannie finally.  "He is yer
+sweetheart, faithful and true&mdash;he don't suspect you; he never will
+suspect you.  You whisper 'yes' to him on Christmas night, dearie, and
+don't wait for next Tuesday.  It's the right thing to do, it's the only
+right thing to do."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap09"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER IX.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+On Christmas Eve, Grannie went out and stayed away for about an hour.
+She looked mysterious when she came back.  She wore her zebra-pattern
+shawl, which was quite bulged out with parcels.  These she conveyed
+quickly into her bedroom, notwithstanding the devouring eyes which the
+children cast upon them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Out of that," she said, pushing them all aside; "none of your
+curiosity, or you'll get nothing.  What right have you to suppose as
+I'm agoin' to waste my money a-giving presents to little brats like
+you?  Now, out of the way, out of the way.  For goodness' sake Polly,
+set down and finish stoning 'em raisins.  Annie, is that a currant I
+see in yer mouth, you bad, greedy girl?  I'll whack you, as sure as my
+name's Grannie."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then Grannie disappeared into her room and locked the door amid the
+screams of excitement and laughter of the happy children.  "I am an old
+fool to do it," she said to herself, trembling a good deal, for somehow
+she had been feeling very weak the last few days; the constant pain and
+anxiety had told upon her.  "I am an old fool to spend seven and
+sixpence on nothing at all but gimcracks to put into the Christmas
+stockings; but there, I must see 'em happy once again&mdash;I must&mdash;I will.
+Afterwards there'll be a dark time, I know; but on Christmas Day it
+shall be all light&mdash;all light, and cheerfulness, and trust, for the
+sake of the dear Lord wot was born a babe in Bethlehem."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie very carefully deposited her parcels in the old-fashioned
+bureau which stood in the corner of the tiny bedroom.  She locked it up
+and put the key in her pocket, and returned to the little sitting room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison was busy trimming her party dress.  She had a party dress, and
+quite a stylish one.  It was made of pink nun's-veiling, which she had
+got very cheap as a bargain at Shaw's when the summer sale was over.
+The dress was made simply, quite high to the throat, with long sleeves,
+but the plain skirt and rather severe-looking bodice, with its frill of
+lace round the throat and wrists, gave Alison that curiously refined,
+ladylike appearance which was so rare in her station of life.  She had
+a sort of natural instinct which kept her from overdressing, and she
+always looked the picture of neatness.  She was furbishing up the lace
+on the dress now, and Polly was seated by the little table stoning the
+raisins for the Christmas pudding, and gazing with admiration at her
+sister all the while.  The Christmas bustle and sense of festivity
+which Grannie had insisted on bringing into the air, infected everyone.
+Even Alison felt rather cheerful; as she trimmed up the old dress she
+kept singing a merry tune.  If it was her bounden duty to marry Jim&mdash;to
+return the great love he bore her&mdash;to be his faithful and true
+wife&mdash;then all the calamity of the last few days would be past.  Good
+luck would once more shine upon her.  Once again she would be the
+happiest of the happy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, yes, I love him!" she murmured to herself.  "I love him better
+every day, every hour, every minute; he is all the world to me.  I
+think of him all day long, and dream of him all through the night.  I
+could be good for him.  If he is strong enough and great enough to get
+over the fact of my being accused of theft, why, I'll take him; yes,
+I'll take him.  It will make Grannie happy too.  Poor old Grannie! she
+don't look too well the last day or two.  It is wonderful, but I think
+she is fretting sore about that feather-stitching.  Poor dear! she
+thinks more of that feather-stitching than of most anything else in the
+world; but, Lor' bless her, they'll soon be putting something else in
+its place in the West End shops.  The feather-stitching will be
+old-fashioned beside the embroidery.  Poor old Grannie, it is hard on
+her!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+By this time the tea hour had arrived.  Alison took her dress into her
+little bedroom, laid it on the bed, and came back to help to get ready
+the family meal.  David and Harry both came noisily upstairs to partake
+of it.  They were going out immediately afterward to the boys' club,
+and told Grannie that they would not be back to supper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are going to be real high jinks at the club to-night," said
+Harry; "a magic lantern and a conjurer, and afterward we are to play
+leapfrog and billiards, and end up with a boxing match.  That swell,
+Mr. Rolfe, is the right sort.  Anyone would think that he had known
+boys from this part of the world all his days."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Boys is boys all the world over," said Grannie; "be they rich or poor,
+high or low, they are just the same&mdash;mischeevous, restless young
+wagabones.  Now then, Harry, for goodness gracious, don't spill your
+tea on the cloth.  My word! wot a worry you all are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You know you don't think so, Grannie," said the audacious boy.  His
+black eyes laughed into her blue ones; she gave him a smile into which
+she threw her whole brave heart.  He remembered that smile in the dark
+days which were to follow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Tea was over, and presently Alison went into her room to dress.  She
+did not intend putting in an appearance at the Clays' before nine
+o'clock, and she told Grannie not to sit up for her.  Of course Jim
+would see her home.  It occurred to her, and her heart beat faster at
+the thought, that she might be able to give Jim his final answer on her
+way home; if so, what a glorious Christmas present would be hers.
+Accordingly, as she dressed her hair she sang a cheerful little song
+under her breath.  Grannie heard her in the kitchen, paused with her
+finger on her lip, and enjoined silence for a moment, and then smiled
+in a very heart-whole manner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure," she murmured to herself "the will of the Lord seems full
+o' mercy to-night.  Wot do it matter about an old body like me, ef
+things go right for the children?  Oh, good Lord, I commit these
+children to thy care; do for 'em wot is right, and don't trouble about
+an old body.  I don't count; I know my place is safe enough for me in
+the Kingdom.  I need not fret about wot is left for this world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Alison came out of her room, looking beautiful, and fifty times
+too good for the company she was to be with, Grannie gave her a kiss,
+which was so full of gladness and meaning as to be almost solemn.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And Jim will see you home," said the old lady.  "Oh, yes, yes!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure; but don't sit up, Grannie," said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I won't ef you don't wish it, love.  You'll find the key under the
+mat; now go off, and a Christmas blessin' with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison departed, and soon afterward the younger children were hustled
+off to bed.  They were very much excited, and did not at all wish to
+retire at this comparatively early hour, but Grannie was peremptory.
+She had plenty of work to do after the rogues were asleep, she
+murmured.  So off to bed they went, with a couple of raisins each by
+way of comfort; and when she thought they were snoring she slipped
+softly into her room to fetch the brown paper parcels, and the long
+woolen stockings which year after year had done duty for the Santa
+Claus gifts.  If she suspected it, she took good care not to look;
+nevertheless, the fact remains that the three little snorers did open
+their eyes for a brief moment, and did see the parcels going out, and
+the stockings following them, and then turned round to hug each other
+in an ecstacy of bliss.  On this occasion Alison's companion slept with
+her two sisters, and they kept up a little chatter, like birds in a
+nest, for quite five minutes after Grannie had left them.  She heard
+them, of course,&mdash;for every sound could be heard in the little
+flat,&mdash;but she took no notice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bless 'em, how happy they are!" she said to herself.  "Bless the Lord,
+oh, my soul.  I do declare there's a sight o' good to be got out of
+life, writers' cramp or not.  Now, then, to open these parcels."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The parcels when opened produced a wonderful array of cheap workboxes,
+needle-cases, pin-trays, ornamental pens, boxes full of bon-bons, penny
+whistles, twopenny flutes, a Jew's-harp or two; in short, a medley of
+every kind of heterogeneous presents which could be produced with the
+modest sum of from a penny to twopence halfpenny.  Grannie fully
+believed in numbers.  She knew from past experience that the children
+would rather have half a dozen small things than one big thing.  The
+worsted stockings, too, which had been knit in a bygone age, by the
+celebrated Mrs. Simpson, the inventor of the sprig, were deep and long.
+They took a great deal of filling, and Grannie knew what keen
+disappointment would be the result if each stocking was not chock-full.
+She collected her wares, sorted them into six parcels, laid the six
+stockings on the table by the side of the gifts, and then began to
+select the most appropriate gifts for each.  Yes; Alison should have
+the little basket which contained the pretty thimble, the little plush
+pin-cushion glued on at one corner, and two reels of cotton kept in
+their place by a neat little band, and the needle-book at the opposite
+side.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is the werry nattiest thing I have seen for many a day," murmured
+Grannie, "and only tuppence three farthings.  I'll take the price off,
+of course.  Now, suppose Ally comes back an engaged girl, could she
+have anything prettier than this little basket?  It shall go in the top
+of the stocking, jest where it can peep out and look at her the first
+thing in the morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The stockings were filled at last; the toes and heels dexterously
+stuffed out with apples and oranges; the gifts following next&mdash;each
+separate gift wrapped in paper, and tied neatly with string.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quite half the fun is in the untying of the string," thought Mrs.
+Reed.  "Oh, how the little 'earts will go pitter-patter!  Don't I know
+it myself?  Why, when I were nothing more than a five-year-old Phipps,
+I remember as well as possible taking my presents out of this werry
+stocking, and trembling all over when I couldn't untie the knot of the
+parcel which held that cock made of sugar, wot I kept on the
+chimney-piece for many and many a day afterward; for though mother give
+it to me, she wouldn't let me eat it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The six stockings were filled, and each stocking hung at the foot of
+its future owner's bed.  The children were sound asleep now, and the
+boys at the club, and the girl at her party forgot all about such a
+trivial thing as poor old Santa Claus and his stocking, but Grannie was
+very thankful that the stockings should hang at the foot of the beds
+for the last time.  When all was done and the kitchen made as neat as a
+new pin she fell on her knees and uttered a short prayer&mdash;a prayer
+which was more praise than prayer.  She then got into bed, and quickly
+fell asleep; for she was very tired, and, wonderful to say, her hand
+and arm did not ache as much as usual.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Not far away was Tragedy coming to meet her with quick strides, but the
+little woman was under the shadow of God's wing to-night, and had
+neither fear nor trouble.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap10"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER X.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+When Alison arrived at the Clays' the fun was in full swing.  The house
+was crowded&mdash;not only the long sitting room, but the little hall, and a
+good way up the stairs.  A stage had been erected at one end of the
+sitting room; on this stage now the actors were disporting themselves.
+As Alison had not arrived in time for supper, no one took any notice of
+her when she appeared.  She found that it was quite impossible to hope
+to get a corner, either to sit or stand, in the room where the acting
+was going on.  She had, therefore, to content herself with leaning up
+against the wall in the passage, and now and then bending forward so as
+to see the one person about whom she was the least interested&mdash;Jim
+himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The play was a very poor affair, and consisted of several short scenes
+acted in the style of charades, with impromptu conversations, which
+mostly consisted of coarse jests and innuendoes; but the loud laughter
+of the spectators assured Alison that this style of thing was quite up
+to their level.  She felt rather sickened at Jim's taking part in
+anything so commonplace; but her love for him, which grew daily, gave
+her a certain sense of rest and happiness at even being in his
+vicinity.  He did not know she was there, but that mattered little or
+nothing.  When the play was over he would come out and see her, and
+then everything would be smooth and delightful.  She forgot to be
+jealous of Louisa; she even forgot the fact that a few short weeks ago
+she had been publicly accused of theft; she only knew that she wore her
+best frock; she was only conscious that she looked her best and
+brightest, that when Jim's eyes did rest upon her he could not but
+acknowledge her charm; she was only well aware that it was Christmas
+Eve, and that all the world was rejoicing.  She stood, therefore, in
+the crowded hall with a smiling face, her hands lightly, clasped in
+front of her, her thoughts full of peace, and yet stimulated to a
+certain excited joy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Between the acts people began to go in and out of the large sitting
+room, and on these occasions Alison was jostled about a good bit.  She
+was quite pushed up against the stairs, and had some difficulty in
+keeping her balance.  She saw a man stare at her with a very coarse
+sort of admiration.  She did not know the man, and she shrank from his
+gaze; but the next moment she saw him speaking to a girl who she knew
+belonged to Shaw's establishment.  The girl's reply came distinctly to
+her ears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I suppose she is pretty enough," she said.  "We always spoke of
+her as genteel at Shaw's.  Oh, you want to know her name, Mr. Manners?
+Her name is Alison Reed.  She left Shaw's because she stole a
+five-pound note.  It was awfully good of him not to prosecute her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That girl a thief!" said the man who was addressed as Manners.  "I
+don't believe it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, but she is!  She was in such a fright that she left the shop the
+very day she was accused.  That shows guilt&mdash;don't it, now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison could not hear Manners' reply, but after a time, the sharp voice
+of the girl again reached her ears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They do say as Jim Hardy, our foreman, was sweet on her, but of course
+he has given her up now; he is all agog for Louisa Clay, the girl he is
+acting with to-night.  They say they are sweethearts, and they'll be
+married early in the year.  It is a very good match for him, for Louisa
+has lots of money and&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The speakers moved on, and Alison could not catch another word.  She
+had gained a comfortable position for herself now, and was leaning
+firmly against the wall.  The words which had reached her she fully and
+completely realized.  She was accustomed to being considered a thief;
+she always would be considered a thief until that five-pound note was
+found.  It was very painful, it was bitter to be singled out in that
+way, to have attention drawn to her as such a character; but the words
+which related to Jim she absolutely laughed at.  Was not Jim her own
+faithful lover?  Would he not see her home to-night, believing in her
+fully and entirely?  Oh, yes.  Whatever the world at large thought of
+her, she was good enough for Jim.  Yes, yes.  She would promise to be
+his to-night, she would not wait until next Tuesday.  What was the good
+of pushing happiness away when it came so close?  A cup full of such
+luck was not offered to every girl.  She would drink it up; she would
+enjoy it to the full.  Then envious and malicious tongues would have to
+be quiet, for she would prove by her engagement that Jim, at least,
+believed in her.  She drew up her head proudly as this thought came to
+her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The next act in the noisy little play was just beginning, and those who
+cared for seats in the room were pushing forward; the crowd in the
+passage was therefore less oppressive.  Alison moved forward a step or
+two, and stood in such a position that she was partly sheltered by a
+curtain.  She had scarcely done so before, to her great astonishment,
+Hardy and Louisa came out.  They stood together for a moment or two in
+the comparatively deserted passage.  Other characters occupied the
+stage for the time being, and Louisa was glad to get into the
+comparatively fresh air to cool herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, aint it hot?" she said.  "Fan me," she added, offering Jim a huge
+fan gaudily painted in many colors.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She unfurled it as she spoke, and put it into his hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Make a breeze o' some sort," she said; "do, or I'll faint!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim looked pleased and excited.  He was fantastically dressed in the
+stage costume in which he had shortly to appear.  Alison, partly
+sheltered by the curtain, could see well without being seen herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The play is going splendid, Jim," said Louisa.  "I'm ever so pleased."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad of that," replied Jim.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought you would be.  Well, I do feel a happy girl to-night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And when is it to be?" said Jim, bending down and looking earnestly
+into her face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She flushed when he spoke to her, and immediately lowered her eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I aint made up my mind quite yet," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But you will?" he replied, in a voice full of solicitude.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know.  Would it please you if I did?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I needn't say that it would," was the reply.  "I think it would make
+me real happy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, ef I thought that&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Louisa took her fan out of Jim Hardy's hand and began to toy with it in
+a somewhat affected manner.  Then her expression changed to one of
+absolute passion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think there is anything in heaven above, or the earth beneath,
+I wouldn't do, Jim Hardy, even to please you for half an hour; to
+please you is the light of life to me.  So, if you wish it, let it
+be&mdash;there!  I can't say any more, can I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You can't; you have said enough," he replied gravely.  "There is our
+call," he added; "we must go back.  Are you cooler now?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Much cooler, thanks to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The call came a second time.  Louisa hurried forward; Jim followed her.
+Neither of them noticed the listening girl behind the curtain.  The
+next moment loud cheers filled the room as Hardy and Louisa took their
+places side by side in the front of the stage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison waited until the great uproar had subsided, then she slipped
+into the dressing room where she had gone on her arrival, put on her
+hat and jacket steadily and calmly, and went home.  She had no
+intention now of waiting for Jim.  She never meant to wait for Jim any
+more.  He was false as no man had ever been false before.  She would
+forget him, she would drive him out of her life.  He had dared to come
+and talk of marriage to her when he really loved another girl; he had
+dared to give her words of tenderness when his heart was with Louisa
+Clay.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is all over," whispered Alison quite quietly under her breath.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She wondered, in a dull sort of fashion, why she felt so quiet; why she
+did not suffer a great deal more; why the sense of disappointment and
+cruel desertion did not break her heart.  She was sure that by and by
+her heart would awaken, and pain&mdash;terrible, intense pain would be her
+portion; but just now she felt quiet and stunned.  She was glad of
+this.  It was Christmas Eve, but Jim was not walking home with her.
+The Christmas present she had hoped for was not to be hers.  Well,
+never mind, to-morrow would be Christmas Day.  Jim was invited to
+dinner, to that good dinner which Grannie had no right to buy, but
+which Grannie had bought to give the children one last happy day.
+Alison herself had made the cake and had frosted it, and Alison herself
+had stirred the pudding, and had thought of Jim's face as it would look
+when he sat with the children round the family board.  He would never
+sit there now; she must never see him again.  She would write to him
+the moment she got in, and then, having put him out of her life once
+and for ever, she would help Grannie to keep the Merry Christmas.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She walked up the weary number of steps to the flat on the fifth floor.
+She found the key under the mat, and then went in.  Grannie had left
+everything ready for her.  Grannie had thought of a betrothed maiden
+who would enter the little house with the air of a queen who had come
+suddenly into her kingdom.  Grannie, who was sound asleep at this
+moment, had no idea that Despair itself was coming home in the last
+hours just before the blessed Christmas broke.  Alison opened the door
+very softly, and, going into the kitchen, took down her writing
+portfolio from a little shelf where she generally kept it, and wrote a
+short letter to Jim.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"Dear Jim: I have made up my mind, and in this letter you will get your
+final answer.  I will not marry anybody until I am cleared of this
+trouble about the five-pound note; and whether I am cleared or not, I
+shall never marry you, <I>for I don't love you</I>.  I found out to-night it
+was all a mistake, and what I thought was love was not.  I don't love
+you, Jim, and I never wish to see you again.  Please don't come to
+dinner to-morrow, and please don't ever try to see me.  This is final.
+I don't love you; that is your answer.
+<BR><BR>
+"ALISON REED."
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Having signed the letter in a very firm hand, Alison put it into an
+envelope, addressed and stamped it.  She then went out and dropped it
+into a pillar-box near by.  Jim would get it on Christmas morning.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap11"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XI.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Christmas Day went by.  It was quiet enough, although the children
+shouted with glee over their stockings and ate their dinner heartily.
+There was a depressed feeling under all the mirth, although Alison wore
+her very best dress and laughed and sang, and in the evening played
+blindman's buff with the children.  There was a shadow over the home,
+although Grannie talked quietly in the corner of the Blessed Prince of
+Peace, and of the true reason for Christmas joy.  Jim's place was
+empty, but no one remarked it.  The children were too happy to miss
+him, and the elder members of the party were too wise to say what they
+really felt.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Boxing Day was almost harder to bear than Christmas Day.  Alison stayed
+quietly in the house all the morning, but toward the afternoon she grew
+restless.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dave," she said, "will you and Harry come for a walk with me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure," answered both the boys, brightening up.  The little girls
+clamored to accompany them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no," said Grannie, "you'll stay with me.  I have a job on hand,
+and I want you to help me.  It is tearing up old letters, and putting
+lots of things in order.  And maybe I'll give you a chocolate each when
+it is done."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The promise of the chocolates was comforting, and the little ones
+stayed at home not ill pleased.  Alison went out with her two brothers.
+She held herself very erect, and there was a proud look on her face.
+She had never looked handsomer nor more a lady.  David felt very proud
+of her.  He did not understand her just now, it is true, but he was
+pleased when people turned round to look at her; and when admiring
+glances came in her way, he walked close to her with an air of
+protection, and was glad that his sister was better looking than other
+fellows'.  They all turned their steps in the direction of Victoria
+Park.  They had just got there when quick footsteps overtook them, and
+Jim Hardy came up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hullo," he said, when he approached the little party.  "Stop, can't
+you?  I have been running after you all this time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David and Harry both stopped, but Alison walked on.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's all right," said Jim, nodding to the boys.  "You stay back a
+bit, won't you, like good fellows?  I want to have a talk with your
+sister."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Harry felt inclined to demur, for he was fond of Jim, and his own
+pleasure always was first with him; but David understood, and gripped
+his brother's arm fiercely, holding him back.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Keep back," he said, in a whisper; "can't you see for yourself that
+there's trouble there?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Trouble where?" said Harry, opening his eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are a muff.  Can't you see that something has put Alison out?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can see that she is very disagreeable," said Harry.  "I suppose she
+is in love, that's what it means.  She is in love with Jim Hardy.  But
+he is going to marry Louisa Clay; everybody says so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shut up," said David.  "You are a silly.  Hardy thinks no more of
+Louisa than he does of you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, let us make for the pond and leave them alone," said Harry.  "I
+do believe the ice will bear in a day or two."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The boys rushed off to the right, and Alison and Jim walked down the
+broad center path.  Alison's heart was beating wildly.  The love which
+she was trying to slay rose up like a giant in her heart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I won't show it," thought the proud girl to herself.  "He shall
+never, never think that I fret because he has thrown me over for
+another.  If, loving me, he could care for Louisa, he is not my sort.
+No, I won't fret, no, I won't; I'll show him that I don't care."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm glad I met you," said Jim.  Jim was a very proud fellow, too, in
+his own way.  Alison's queer letter had pierced him to the quick.  Not
+having the faintest clew to her reason for writing it, he was feeling
+justly very angry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I didn't come in yesterday," he continued, "when you made it so plain
+that you didn't want me; but, all the same, I felt that we must talk
+this matter out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's nothing to talk out," said Alison.  "You knew my mind when you
+got that letter, and that's about all I've got to say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That letter was a lie from first to last," said Jim boldly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison turned and looked full at him.  Her face was white.  Her big
+blue eyes blazed and looked dark.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The letter was true," she said.  "Girls can't help being contrary now
+and then.  I don't want to see you again, I don't want to have anything
+to do with you.  I made a mistake when I said I loved you.  I found out
+just in time that I didn't.  It was a right good thing I found it out
+before we was wed, instead of afterwards; I did, and we are safe, and
+you can give yourself, heart and soul, with a clear conscience, to
+another."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't make out what you are driving at," said Jim.  "You know
+perfectly well, Alison, that I love no one in all the world but
+yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! don't you?" said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Really, Ally, you will drive me mad if you go on talking in that
+unreasonable way.  Of course I don't care for anyone but you, and you
+always gave me to understand that you returned my love.  Come, darlin',
+what is it?  You must know that after all you have said to me in the
+past, I can't believe that letter of yours; it is all against common
+sense.  People can't love and then unlove in that sort o' fashion.
+Tell me the truth, Ally.  Something made you angry; and you love me as
+much as ever, don't you, darlin'?  Come, let us make it up.  There is
+something at the bottom of this, and you ought to tell me.  As to your
+not loving me, that is all fudge, you know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison's heart, which had lain so dead in her breast, began suddenly to
+stir and dance with a queer excitement.  After all, had she made a
+mistake?  Was Jim really faithful to her after all?  But, no; how could
+she mistake?  She had heard the words herself.  Oh, yes, of course, Jim
+was false; and for all he had such an honest voice, and the truest eyes
+in all the world, Alison must turn her back on him, for she could not
+doubt the hearing of her own ears and the seeing of her own eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry," she said, in a cold voice, when Jim had paused and looked
+eagerly for her answer.  "I am sorry, but after all it is a pity that
+we met to-day, for my letter really told you everything.  I don't love
+you.  You wouldn't marry a girl what didn't love you; would you, Jim?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no," said Jim; "no marriage could be happy, it would be a cruel
+mistake, without love.  It seems to me that marriage is a sin, an awful
+sin, if there aint love to make it beautiful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, then, it would be a sin for us to marry," said Alison.  "You can
+see that for yourself.  You need have no scruples, Jim; you can do what
+you wish."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, that is to marry you," said Jim.  "Come, Ally, there is a
+strange thing over you, my dearie, but show me your true self once
+again.  Come, darlin'.  Why, you are going nigh to break my heart, the
+way you are going on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For a moment Alison's belief in what she had herself seen was staggered
+by Jim's words and the ring of pain in his voice, but only for a
+moment.  The thought of Louisa and the tender way he had looked at her,
+and her bold words of passion, were too vivid to be long suppressed.
+Alison's voice took a note of added scorn as she replied:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's real shabby o' you to worry me when I have given you a straight
+answer.  I don't love you, not a bit, but there's another girl what
+does.  Go to her&mdash;go and be happy with her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you mean?" said Jim, turning pale.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison's eyes were fixed angrily on him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, I see, I can move you at last," she Said.  "You didn't think that
+I could guess, but I can.  Go to Louisa&mdash;she loves you well, and I
+don't&mdash;I never did&mdash;it was all a big mistake.  Girls like me often
+fancy they love, and then when the thing comes near they see that they
+don't; marriage is an awful thing without love&mdash;it is a sin.  Go and
+marry Louisa; she'll make you a good wife."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Alison," said Jim, "there can be only one explanation to the way you
+are going on to-day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what is that?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There must be someone you like better than me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course there is," said Alison, with a shrill laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I love Grannie better than him.  I love Dave better," whispered the
+excited girl wildly, under her breath.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course there is," she repeated.  "There is nothing for opening the
+eyes like seeing your true love at last."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you <I>have</I> explained matters, and I haven't a word to say,"
+answered Jim, in a haughty voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He drew himself up,&mdash;his eyes looked straight into hers,&mdash;she shivered,
+but did not flinch; the next moment he had turned on his heels and
+walked away.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He walked quickly, leaving the miserable, distracted girl alone.  He
+thought he understood at last; Alison had another lover.  Who could he
+be?  Jim had certainly never heard of anybody else.  Still, this was
+the true explanation&mdash;she had admitted as much herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go to Louisa Clay&mdash;she loves you well," the angry girl had said to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Well, why should not he go to Louisa?  Louisa was not his style, but
+she was handsome, and she had a good bit of money, and he had guessed
+long ago that she loved him.  He did not want to hear of Alison's new
+lover, and of Alison's engagement, and of Alison's marriage without
+putting some shield between himself and the bitter words that would be
+spoken, and the laugh that would be all against him.  He was proud as
+well as steadfast; he was daring as well as true.  If Alison could give
+him up as she had done, why should he not take the lesser good?  It was
+true that Louisa had admitted, or almost admitted, her engagement to
+Sampson, which was really the wedding poor Jim had alluded to on
+Christmas Eve; but Jim knew that matters were not settled in that
+direction yet, and he was too angry just now not to feel a keen desire
+to cut Sampson out.  He went straight, therefore, to the Clays' house.
+His heart was just in that sort of tempest of feeling when men so often
+take a rash step and lay up misery for themselves for the whole of
+their remaining days.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mr. and Mrs. Clay were out, but Louisa was at home; she had a cold, and
+had not cared to venture out in the raw December air.  Jim was shown
+into a snug little parlor at the back of the shop.  Louisa was
+becomingly dressed, and looked remarkably handsome.  She started with
+pleasure when she saw Jim, colored up to her eyes, and then noticing
+something which she had never noticed before in his glance, looked
+down, trembling and overcome.  At that moment her love made her
+beautiful.  Jim saw it trembling on her lips.  The reaction between her
+warmth and Alison's frozen manner was too much for him; he made a
+stride forward, and the next moment had taken her in his arms; his
+kisses rested on her lips.  She gave a sigh of ineffable bliss.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Jim!" she said, "has it come to this?  Am I to have my heart's
+desire after all?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I am your heart's desire, you can have me, and welcome," answered
+Jim.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Jim!  I love you so much.  I am the happiest gel in all the world.
+Kiss me again, do.  Oh, how I love you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear girl," said the young man.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He did not say yet that he loved her back again, but his heart was
+beating high.  At that moment he was not proof against her beauty,
+which in its own way was remarkable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then we're engaged," she said.  "Oh, Jim, is it true that such
+happiness is come to me?  I feel sort o' frightened.  I never, never
+thought that such good could come to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We're engaged, that is if we can be straight and above-board,"
+answered Jim; "but first I must know what about Sampson.  He has asked
+you to be his wife, hasn't he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, yes.  Oh, don't trouble about him.  Sit close to me, can't you,
+and kiss me again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must know about Sampson first," said Jim.  "Have you given him a
+promise?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not yet, I don't love him a bit, you see; but when I thought you'd
+never come forward, and that all your heart was given to Alison
+Reed&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim shuddered and drew himself away from Louisa.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought," she continued, "that George Sampson would be better than
+nobody, so I told him he might come for his answer to-night, and he'll
+get it too.  He always knew that I loved yer.  Why, he even said so.
+He said to me, not a week ago, 'You can't win him, Louisa, so don't
+waste your breath on him, but come to an honest fellow what loves yer,
+and who don't think nothing of any other gel.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But doesn't it seem hard on the honest fellow?" said Jim, with a smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, no, it don't!  Do you think I'd look at him after what you have
+said?  Oh, I'm so happy!  Sit by me, and tell me when you first thought
+of throwing over Alison Reed for me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Listen," said Jim.  "There is nothing now between Alison and me.  I'll
+try to make you a good mate; I will try to do everything to make you
+happy, and to give you back love for love; but if you value our future
+happiness, you must make me a promise now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's that?" she asked, looking up at him, frightened at the
+solemnity in his tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must never talk of Alison to me.  Promise, do you hear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, why not?  You can't care for her a bit, or you wouldn't come to
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I like you most&mdash;I wouldn't ask you to marry me if I didn't; but I
+won't talk of Alison.  If you can't have me without bringing up her
+name, say so at once, and everything shall be at an end between us.
+Now you have got to choose.  Alison's name is not to pass yer lips to
+me.  We are not to talk of her, do you understand?  Do you promise?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I promise anything&mdash;anything, if you will only kiss me again."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap12"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XII.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+The next day it was all over the place that Jim Hardy and Louisa Clay
+were engaged.  Harry heard the news as he was coming home from doing a
+message for Grannie; Grannie heard it when she went shopping; Alison
+heard it from the boy who sold the milk&mdash;in short, this little bit of
+tidings of paramount interest in Alison's small world was dinned into
+her ears wherever she turned.  Jim was engaged.  His friends thought
+that he had done very well for himself, and it was arranged that the
+wedding was to take place just before Lent.  Lent would fall early this
+year, and Jim's engagement would not last much over six weeks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Notwithstanding all she had said the day before, Alison turned very
+pale when the cruel news came to her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What can it mean?" said Grannie, who followed the girl into her
+bedroom.  "I don't understand it&mdash;there must be an awful mistake
+somewhere.  You can't, surely, have thrown over a good fellow like
+that, Alison?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, he threw me over," said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Child, I jest don't believe yer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Grannie; I'm afraid I can't help it whether you believe me
+or not.  Jim is dead to me now, and we won't talk of him any more.
+Grannie dear, let us go into the kitchen; you and I have something else
+to attend to.  What is to come o' me?  What am I to do for myself now
+that I can't get a situation for want of a character, and now that I
+have lost my young man?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison laughed in a bitter way as she said the last words.  She looked
+straight out of the window, and avoided meeting Grannie's clear blue
+eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must get something to do," said Alison.  "I am young, and strong,
+and capable, and the fact of having a false charge laid to my door
+can't mean surely that I am to starve.  I must get work, Grannie; I
+must learn to support myself and the children.  Oh, and you, you dear
+old lady; for you can't do much, now that your 'and is so bad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It do get worse," said Grannie, in a solemn voice; "it pains and burns
+awful now and then, and the thumb and forefinger are next to
+useless&mdash;they aint got any power in 'em.  'Taint like my usual luck,
+that it aint.  I can't understand it anyhow.  But there, child, for the
+Lord's sake don't worry about an old body like me.  Thank the Lord for
+his goodness, I am at the slack time o' life, and I don't want no
+thought and little or no care.  I aint the p'int&mdash;it's you that's the
+p'int, Ally&mdash;you and the chil'en."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, what is to be done, grandmother?  It seems to me that we have
+not a day to lose.  We never could save much, there was too great a
+drag on your earnings, and mine seemed swept up by rent and twenty
+other things, and now neither you nor I have been earning anything for
+weeks.  We can't have much money left now, have we?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have got one pound ten," said Grannie.  "I looked at the purse this
+morning.  One pound ten, and sevenpence ha'penny in coppers; that's
+all.  That wouldn't be a bad sum if there was anythink more coming in;
+but seeing as ther' aint, it is uncommon likely to dwindle, look at it
+from what p'int you may."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, then, we haven't an hour to lose," said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We haven't an hour to lose," repeated Grannie.  She looked around the
+little room; her voice was cheerful, but there was a dreary expression
+in her eyes.  Alison noticed it.  She got up and kissed her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't, child, don't; it aint good to move the feelin's when things is
+a bit rough, as they are now.  We have got to be firm, Alison, and we
+have got to be brave, and there aint no manner o' use drawing on the
+feelin's.  Keep 'em under, say I, and stand straight to your guns.
+It's a tough bit o' battle we're goin' through, but we must stand to
+our guns, that's wot I say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I too," said the girl, stiffening herself under the words of
+courage.  "Well now, I know you are a very wise woman, Grannie; what's
+to be done?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am going to see Mr. Williams, that old clergyman in Bayswater wot
+was so good to me when my husband died.  I am going to see him
+to-morrow," said Grannie.  "Arter I have had a good spell of talk with
+him, I'll tell you more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you think he could get me a situation?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Maybe he could."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish you would go to him at once, Grannie.  There really doesn't
+seem to be a day to be lost."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's the hour, child?  I don't mind going to him now, but I thought
+it might be a bit late."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all; you'll see him when he comes home to dinner.  Shall I go
+with you?  Somehow I pine for a change and a bit of the air."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, darlin', I'd best see him by myself, and then there's the bus fare
+to consider; but ef you'd walk with me as far as St. Paul's Churchyard,
+I'd be much obleeged, and you can see me into the bus.  I am werry
+strong, thank the Lord; but somehow, when the crowd jostle and push,
+they seem to take my nerve off&mdash;particular since this 'and got so bad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie went into her little room to get ready for her expedition, and
+Alison also pinned on her hat and buttoned on her pilot-cloth jacket.
+Grannie put on her best clothes for this occasion.  She came out
+equipped for her interview in her neat black shawl and little quilted
+bonnet.  The excitement had brought a bright color to her cheeks and an
+added light to her blue eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Grannie, how pretty you look," said her granddaughter.  "I
+declare you are the very prettiest old lady I ever saw."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie was accustomed to being told that she was good-looking.  She
+drew herself up and perked her little face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Phippses were always remarked for their skins," she said;
+"beautiful they was, although my poor mother used to say that wot's
+skin-deep aint worth considering.  Still, a good skin is from the Lord,
+and he gave it to the Phippses with other good luck; no mistake on that
+p'int."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The next moment the two set out.  It was certainly getting late in the
+day, but Alison cheered Grannie on, repeating several times in a firm
+and almost defiant manner that there was not an hour to be lost.  They
+got to St. Paul's Churchyard, and Alison helped Grannie to get into an
+omnibus.  The old woman got a seat near the door, and smiled and nodded
+brightly to her granddaughter as the bus rolled away.  Alison went back
+very slowly to her home.  She had a terrible depression over her, and
+longed almost frantically for something to do.  All her life she had
+been a very active girl.  No granddaughter of Mrs. Reed's was likely to
+grow up idle, and Alison, almost from the time she could think, had
+been accustomed to fully occupy each moment of her day.  Now the long
+day dragged, while despair clutched at her heart.  What had she done?
+What sin had she committed to be treated so cruelly?  Grannie was
+religious; she was accustomed to referring things to God.  There was a
+Rock on which her spirit dwelt which Alison knew nothing about.  Now,
+the thought of Grannie and her religion stirred the girl's heart in the
+queerest way.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't do any good," she said to herself; "seems as if the Lord
+didn't care for poor folks, or he wouldn't let all this sort of thing
+come on me.  It aint as if I weren't always respectable; it aint as if
+I didn't always try to do what's right.  Then there's so much bad luck
+jist now come all of a heap: Grannie's bad hand, which means the loss
+of our daily bread, and this false accusation of me, and then my losing
+Jim.  Oh, dear, that's the worst part, but I won't think of that now, I
+won't.  I feel that I could go mad if I thought much of that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Alison returned to the flat in Sparrow Street it was in time to
+get tea for the children.  The little larder was becoming sadly bare;
+the Christmas feast was almost all eaten up, and Alison could only
+provide the children with very dry bread, and skim milk largely diluted
+with water.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Grannie wouldn't treat us like that," said Kitty, who was extremely
+fond of her meals.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You may be thankful if you even get dry bread soon," said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The three little girls stared up at her with wondering, terrified eyes.
+Her tone was very morose.  They saw that she was unapproachable, and
+looked down again.  They ate their unpalatable meal quickly, and in
+silence.  Alison kept the kettle boiling on the fire against Grannie's
+return.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You haven't taken any tea yourself," said Polly, who was Alison's
+room-fellow, and the most affectionate of the three.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I aint hungry, dear; don't notice it," said the elder sister in a
+somewhat gentler tone.  "Now you may run, all of you, and have a play
+in the court."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it's quite dark, and Grannie doesn't like us to be out in the
+dark."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think she'll mind when I tell her that I gave you leave.  I
+have a splitting headache and must be alone for a bit.  It is a dry
+night, and the three of you keep close together, and then you'll come
+to no harm.  There, run off now, and don't bother me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Kitty stared hard at her sister; Polly's eyes flashed with pleasure at
+the thought of a bit of unexpected fun; Annie was only too anxious to
+be off.  Soon Alison had the little kitchen to herself.  She sat by the
+fire, feeling very dull and heavy; her thoughts would keep circulating
+round unpleasant subjects: the one pound ten and sevenpence halfpenny
+which stood between the family and starvation; Jim and Louisa&mdash;Louisa's
+face full of triumph, and her voice full of pride, and Jim's devotion
+to her; Grannie's painful right hand, and the feather-stitching which
+she, Alison, had never taken the trouble to learn.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The old lady was right," she said, half under her breath, half aloud.
+"She's a deal wiser than me, and I might have done worse that follow
+her advice.  I wish I knew the stitch now; yes, I do.  Oh! is that you,
+Dave?" as her brother came in; "but we have done tea."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have had some," said David.  "Mr. Watson called me into his room,
+and gave me a cup.  What is it, Ally; what's the matter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You needn't ask," said Alison.  "You don't suppose I am likely to be
+very cheerful just now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am ever so sorry," said the boy.  "I can't think how this trouble
+come to you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it's Jim," she answered angrily, "you needn't worry to find out,
+for I'll tell you.  I don't love him no more.  He would have married me
+if I cared to have him, but I didn't see my way to it.  Now let's drop
+the subject."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David sat down not far from the fire.  He held out his hands to the
+blaze.  There was a sort of pleased excitement about him which Alison
+after a time could not help noticing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You look quite perky about something," she said.  "It is good for any
+of us to be cheerful just now.  What's up?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where's Grannie?" said Dave.  "I'd like to tell her first."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, very well, just as you please.  But she is out.  She won't be back
+for a good bit yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aint it very late for her to be out?  Where is she gone?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To Bayswater&mdash;to talk to a clergyman who used to befriend us in the
+old days.  What is your news, David?  You may as well tell me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, it's this.  Mr. Watson has just had a long talk with me.  He
+wants me to help him with the accounts, and not to do messages any
+more.  He could get a lad for messages, he says, who hasn't got such a
+head on his shoulders as I have.  I can do bookkeeping pretty well, and
+he'll give me some more lessons.  I am to start next week doing
+office-work, and he'll give me five shillings a week instead of half a
+crown.  I call that prime; don't you, Alison?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure it is," she answered heartily.  She was very fond of David,
+and the note of exultation in his voice touched her, and penetrated
+through the deep gloom at her heart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, this will cheer Grannie," she continued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's more to tell yet," continued David, "for I am to have my meals
+as well as the five shillings a week; so there'll be half a crown at
+the very least to put to the family purse, Alison, and I need be no
+expense, only just to sleep here.  I'll bring the five shillings to
+Grannie every Saturday night, and she can spend just what I want for
+clothes and keep the rest.  I guess she'll make it go as far as
+anybody."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is good news," continued Alison.  "Of course five shillings is a
+sight better nor nothing, and if I only got a place we might keep the
+home together."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, is there any fear of our losing it?" asked David.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear me, David, can we keep it on nothing at all?  There's Grannie not
+earning sixpence, and there's me not earning sixpence; and how is the
+rent to be paid, and us all to be kept in food and things?  It aint to
+be done&mdash;you might have the common sense to know that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To be sure I might," said David, his brow clouding.  "After all, then,
+I don't suppose the five shillings is much help."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, yes, it will support you whatever happens, and that's a good deal.
+Don't fret, Dave; you are a right, good, manly fellow.  You will fight
+your way in the world yet, and Grannie and me we'll be proud of you.  I
+wish I had half the pluck you have; but there, I am so down now that
+nothing seems to come right.  I wish I had had the sense to learn that
+feather-stitching that you do so beautifully."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David colored.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I aint ashamed to say that I know it," he said.  "I dare say I could
+teach it to you if you had a mind to learn it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Alison shook her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; it's too late now," she said.  "It takes months and months of
+practice to make a stitch like that to come to look anything like
+right, and we want the money at once.  We have got scarcely any left,
+and there's the rent due on Monday, and the little girls want new
+shoes&mdash;Kitty's feet were wringing wet when she came in to-day.  Oh,
+yes, I don't see how we are to go on.  But Grannie will tell us when
+she comes back.  Oh, and here she is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison flew to the door and opened it.  Mrs. Reed, looking bright and
+excited, entered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, where are the little ones?" she said at once.  "Aint they reading
+their books, like good children?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, Grannie.  I'd a headache, and I let them go into the court to play
+a bit.  You don't mind, do you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not for once, I don't," said Grannie; "but, Dave, lad, you'd better
+fetch 'em in now, for it's getting real late.  They may as well go
+straight off to bed, for I have a deal I want to talk over with you two
+to-night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison felt impatient and anxious; she could scarcely wait to hear
+Grannie's news.  The old lady sat down near the fire, uttering a deep
+sigh of relief as she did so.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ally, my dear," she said, "I'm as weary as if I were seventy-eight
+instead of sixty-eight.  It's a long walk back from St. Paul's
+Churchyard, and there was a crowd out, to be sure; but it's a fine
+starlight night, and I felt as I was walking along, the Lord's in his
+heaven, and there can never be real bad luck for us, his servants, what
+trusts in him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison frowned.  She wished Grannie would not quote Scripture so much
+as she had done lately.  It jarred upon her own queer, perverse mood;
+but as she saw the courageous light in the blue eyes she suppressed an
+impatient sigh which almost bubbled to her lips.  She got tea for
+Grannie, who drank it in great contentment.  David brought the children
+in.  They kissed Grannie, and were hustled off to bed, rather to their
+own disgust, and then David, Grannie, and Alison sat gravely down, and
+looked each at the other.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where's Harry?" said Grannie suddenly.  "Why aint the boy to home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I expect he's at the Boys' Club," said David.  "He's very fond of
+running round there in the evening."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's no harm in that, Grannie," said Alison.  "Don't fret about
+Harry.  Now tell us your news, do.  Did you see Mr. Williams, and can
+he do anything?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I saw Mr. Williams," said Grannie.  "He remembered me quite well.  I
+told him everything.  It seems to me that he has put things straight.
+I don't say that things aint sore&mdash;no, I don't go to pretend they
+aint&mdash;but somehow they seem straightened out a bit, and I know wot to
+do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what's that, Grannie?" asked David, taking her left hand very
+tenderly in his as he spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie had been leaning back in a sort of restless attitude.  Now she
+straightened herself up and looked keenly at the boy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It means, lad," she said, after a pause, "the sore part means this,
+that we must give up the little bit of a home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We must give it up?" said David, in a blank sort of way.  "Oh, wait a
+while; you don't know about my five shillings a week."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dave has got a rise," interrupted Alison.  "Mr. Watson thinks a sight
+of him, and he's to go into the house as a clerk, and he's to have five
+shillings a week and his meals.  So he's provided for."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But your five shillings a week won't keep up the home, Dave, so
+there's no use thinking of it, from that p'int o' view."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go on, please, Grannie; what else have you and Mr. Williams arranged?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's the Lord has arranged it, child," said Grannie, "it aint Mr.
+Williams.  It's that thought that makes me kind o' cheerful over it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what is it, Grannie?  We are to give up the home?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, the home gives us up," said Grannie, "for we can't keep the
+rooms ef we can't pay the rent, and the children can't be fed without
+money.  To put it plain, as far as the home goes, we're broke.  That's
+plain English.  It's this 'and that has done it, and I'll never believe
+in eddication from this time forward; but there's no use goin' back on
+that now.  Thank the Lord, I has everything settled and clear in my
+mind.  I pay the last rent come Monday, and out we go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But where to?" said Alison.  "There's a lot of us, and we must live
+somewhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's all settled, and beautiful too," said Grannie.  "Mr. Williams
+knows a lady who 'll be right glad to have you, Alison.  The lady is a
+friend of his, and she wants a sort of upper maid, and though you are a
+Phipps and a Simpson and a Reed all in one, you needn't be too proud to
+do work o' that sort.  He said she was quite certain to take to you,
+and you are to go to see her to-morrow morning.  She lives in
+Bayswater, and wants a girl who will attend on her and go messages for
+her and keep her clothes in order.  It will be a very light, genteel
+sort o' place, and you'll have a right good time there, Alison.  And
+then the three little girls.  Mr. Williams said it was wonderful lucky
+I called to-day, for he has got three vacancies for a school for orphan
+children in the country, and for a wonder he don't know any special
+orphan children to give them to this time, and he says that Kitty and
+Polly and Annie can go, and they'll be well fed, and well taught, and
+well clothed, and when they are old enough they'll go to service
+perhaps.  Anyhow, they'll be taught how to earn their living.  So they
+are settled for, and so are you, and it seems as if David's settled for
+too.  As to Harry, I told Mr. Williams all about him, and he says he'll
+think what he can do; he expects he can get him taken on somewhere, for
+he is a smart lad, although a bit wild in his ways."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But what is to come of you, Grannie?" said Alison, after a long pause.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie jumped up when Alison made this remark.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I'm goin' on a visit," she said, "jest to freshen me up.  It
+don't matter a bit about me&mdash;life is slacking down with me, and there
+aint the least cause to worry.  I'm goin' on a visit; don't you fret,
+children."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But where to?" asked Alison.  "You don't know anybody.  I have never
+heard that you had any friends.  The Phippses and the Simpsons are all
+dead, all those you used to know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm goin' to some friends of Mr. Williams," said Grannie, "and I'll be
+werry comfortable and I can stay as long as I like.  Now, for the
+Lord's sake don't begin to fret 'bout me; it's enough to anger me ef
+you do.  Aint we a heap to do atween this and Monday without fussin'
+over an old lady wot 'as 'ad the best o' good luck all her days?  This
+is Tuesday, and you are to go and see Mrs. Faulkner to-morrow morning,
+Alison.  I have got her address, and you are to be there by ten
+o'clock, not a minute later.  Oh, yes, our hands will be full, and we
+have no time to think o' the future.  The Lord has the future in his
+grip, chil'en, and 'taint for you and me to fret about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie seated herself again in her old armchair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fetch the Bible, Dave," she said suddenly, "and read a verse or two
+aloud."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David rose to comply.  He took the family Bible from its place on the
+shelf.  Grannie opened the old book reverently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide
+under the shadow of the Almighty," read David.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie looked solemnly at the boy while the words so familiar and
+comforting fell from his lips.  He read or to the end of the
+magnificent Psalm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I guess there's a power of luck in that hidin' place for them as can
+find it," she said, when he had finished.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then she kissed the boy and girl and went abruptly away to her own room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What does she mean by going on a visit?" said David to his sister.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know," said Alison fearfully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It can't be&mdash;&mdash;" began David.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no; don't say it, Dave," interrupted Alison.   "Don't say it
+aloud, don't&mdash;&mdash;"  She clapped her hands suddenly to his lips.  "I
+can't bear it," she said suddenly.  "I won't hear it.  No, it's a
+visit.  It's all true; it's only a visit.  Good-night, Dave."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She went away to her own room.  During the darkness and misery of that
+night Alison scarcely slept; but old Grannie slept.  God had given his
+angels charge of her, and no one ever had more peaceful slumber.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap13"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIII.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+Monday came all too quickly.  Grannie was very masterful during the few
+days which went before.  She insisted on all the grandchildren doing
+exactly what she told them.  There were moments when she was almost
+stern; she had always been authoritative, and had a certain commanding
+way about her.  This week, even Alison did not dare to cross her in the
+smallest matter.  There was not a single hitch in the arrangements
+which Mr. Williams had sketched out.  Mrs. Faulkner took a great fancy
+to Alison, absolutely believed in her honesty and truth, and engaged
+her for a month's trial on the spot.  She told her to be sure to be
+with her by ten o'clock on Monday to begin her new duties.  Grannie
+went herself to see Mr. Watson; she had a private talk with him which
+no one knew anything about.  He told her that David was a boy in a
+hundred, that he was certain to do well, for he was both clever and
+conscientious.  He said that he could easily manage to fit up a bed for
+him in the back part of the shop; so he was provided for, and,
+according to Grannie and Mr. Watson, provided for well.  When Harry
+heard of the family's exodus, he left the house without a word.  He
+came back in the course of two or three hours, and told Mrs. Reed what
+he had done.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am going to sea," he announced.  "I saw the captain of the <I>Brigand</I>
+down at the West India Docks, and he'll take me as cabin boy.  I dare
+say the life is a bit rough, but I know I shall like it.  I have always
+been so keen for adventure.  I am off to-morrow, Grannie; so I am out
+of the way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie kissed the boy between his straight brows, looked into his
+fearless, dancing, mischievous eyes, and said a word or two which he
+never forgot.  She sent him off the next morning with the best wardrobe
+she could muster, half a crown in his pocket, and her blessing ringing
+in his ears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Taint much; it's a rough life, but it's the best that could be done,"
+she said to Alison.  "Ef he keeps straight he'll have good luck, for
+it's in the breed," she continued; then she resumed her preparations
+for the little girls.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They went away on Saturday, and Alison, David, and Grannie had Sunday
+to themselves.  It was a sort of day which Alison could never talk of
+afterward.  It ought to have been very miserable, but it was not; there
+was a peace about it which comforted the much-tried girl, and which she
+often hugged to her heart in some of the dark days which were close at
+hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, chil'en," said Grannie, on the evening of that day, "you two will
+please go off early in the morning and leave me the last in the old
+house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But mayn't we see you as far as the railway station?" said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, my love, I prefer not," was the response.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But won't you tell us where you are going, Grannie?" said David.  "It
+seems so queer for us to lose sight of you.  Don't you think it a bit
+hard on us, old lady?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie looked very earnestly at David.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," she said, after a pause, "'taint hard, it's best.  I am goin' on
+a wisit; ef it aint comfortable, and ef the Lord don't want me to stay,
+why I won't stay; but I'd rayther not speak o' it to-night.  You must
+let me have my own way, Dave and Alison.  We are all suited for, some
+in one way and some in t'other, but I'd rayther go away to-morrow with
+jest the bit of fun of keeping it all to myself, at least for a time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it in the country, Grannie?" said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm told it's a fine big place," replied Grannie.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And are they folks you ever knew?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They're friends o' Mr. Williams," said Grannie, shutting up her lips.
+"Mr. Williams knows all about 'em.  He says I can go to see you often;
+'taint far from town.  You won't really be very far from me at all.
+But don't let us talk any more about it.  When a woman comes to my time
+o' life, ef she frets about herself she must be a mighty poor sort, and
+that aint me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Monday morning dawned, and Grannie had her way.  Alison and David both
+kissed her, and went out into the world to face their new duties.  They
+were not coming back any more to the little home.  Grannie was alone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I haven't a minute to waste," she said to herself after they had gone,
+bustling about as she spoke.  "There's all the furniture to be sold
+now.  The auctioneer round the corner said he would look in arter the
+chil'en were well out o' the way.  Oh, I dare say I shall have heaps of
+time to fret by and by, but I ain't agoin' to fret now; not I.
+There'll be a nice little nest-egg out of the furniture, which Mr.
+Williams can keep for Alison; and ef Alison gets on, why, 'twill do for
+burying me when my time comes.  I think a sight of having a good
+funeral; the Lord knows I want to be buried decent, comin' of the breed
+I do; but there, I've no time to think of funerals or anything else
+now.  I had to be masterful this week to 'em darlin's, but 'twas the
+only thing to do.  Lor' sakes!  Suppose they'd begun fussing over me,
+what would have become of us all?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At this moment there came a knock at the door.  Grannie knew who it
+was.  It was the agent who came weekly, Monday after Monday, to collect
+the rent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here's your rent, Mr. Johnson," said Grannie, "and I  hope you'll get
+another tenant soon.  It was a right comfortable little flat, and we
+all enjoyed ourselves here.  We haven't a word to say agen our
+landlord, Mr. Johnson."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am very sorry to lose you as a tenant, Mrs. Reed," said Mr. Johnson,
+giving the bright-eyed little woman a puzzled glance.  "If there is
+anything in my power&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, there aint!  No, there aint!" said Grannie, nodding.  "We has made
+fresh arrangements in the fam'ly, and don't require the rooms any
+longer.  I'll have the furniture out by twelve o'clock to-day, sir, and
+then the rooms will be washed out and tidied.  A neighbor downstairs
+has promised to do it.  Will you please tell me where I shall leave the
+key?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You may leave it with Mrs. Murray on the next flat," said Mr. Johnson.
+"Well, I am sorry to lose you as a tenant, Mrs. Reed, and if ever you
+do want to settle down in a home again, please let me know, and I'll do
+my very best to provide you with a comfortable one."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I 'spect I won't have to pay no rent for my next home," said Grannie
+softly, under her breath, as she turned away from the door.  "Oh, Lord,
+to think that you're gettin' a mansion in the sky ready for an old body
+like me, and no rent to pay neither!  Dear Lord, to think it is getting
+ready for me now!  I am about as happy an old woman as walks&mdash;that I
+am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie felt the religion which was part and parcel of her life
+extremely uplifting that morning.  It tided her safely over an hour so
+dark that it might have broken a less stout heart.  The auctioneer came
+round and priced the furniture.  Every bit of that furniture had a
+history.  Part of it belonged to the Reeds, part to the Phippses, and
+part to the Simpsons.  It was full of the stories of many lives; but,
+as Grannie said to herself, "I'll have heaps of time by and by to fret
+about the eight-day clock, and the little oak bureau under the window,
+and the plates, and cups, and dishes, and tables; I need not waste
+precious minutes over 'em now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+So the auctioneer, who somehow could not cheat those blue eyes, offered
+a fair price for the little "bits o' duds," and by twelve o'clock he
+sent round a cart and a couple of men to carry them away.  The flat was
+quite bare and empty before Grannie finally locked the hall door and
+took the key down to Mrs. Murray.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Murray was very fond of Grannie, and was extremely inclined to be
+inquisitive; but if ever Mrs. Reed had been on her full dignity it was
+this morning.  She spoke about the good luck of the children in having
+found such comfortable homes, said that household work was getting a
+little too much for her, and that now she was going away on a visit.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To the country, ma'am?" said Mrs. Murray.  "It is rather early for the
+country jest yet, aint it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is to a very nice part, suitable to the season," replied Grannie,
+setting her lips firmly.  "I'm always in luck, and I'm in my usual good
+luck now in findin' kind friends willin' and glad to have me.  I will
+wish you 'good-day' now, ma'am; I mustn't keep my friends waiting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But won't you have a cup of tea afore you go, for you really look
+quite shaky?" said Mrs. Murray, who noticed that Grannie's left hand
+shook when she laid the key of the lost home on the table.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no, ma'am.  I expect to have tea with my friends," was the reply.
+"Thank you kindly, I am sure, Mrs. Murray, and I wish you well, ma'am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Murray shook hands with Grannie and looked at her kindly and
+affectionately as she tripped down the winding stairs for the last time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie wore her black silk bonnet, and her snow-white kerchief, and
+her neat little black shawl, and her white cotton gloves.  Her
+snow-white hair was as fluffy as usual under the brim of her bonnet,
+and her eyes were even brighter, and her cheeks wore a deeper shade of
+apple bloom about them.  Perhaps some people, some keen observers,
+would have said that the light in the eyes and the bloom on the cheeks
+were too vivid for perfect health; but, as it was, people only remarked
+as they saw her go down the street, "What a dear, pretty old lady!
+Now, <I>she</I> belongs to some of the provident, respectable poor, if you
+like."  People said things of that sort as Grannie got into the omnibus
+presently, and drove away, and away, and away.  They did not know, they
+could not possibly guess, what Grannie herself knew well, that she was
+only a pauper on her way to the workhouse.  For Mrs. Reed had kept her
+secret, and the keeping of that secret was what saved her heart from
+being broken.  Mr. Williams had used influence on her behalf, and had
+got her into the workhouse of a parish to which she had originally
+belonged.  It was in the outskirts of London, and was, he said, one of
+the best and least severe of the class.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Provided the children don't know, nothing else matters," thought
+Grannie over and over, as she approached nearer and nearer to her
+destination.  "I am just determined to make the best of it," she said
+to herself, "and the children need never know.  I shall be let out on
+visits from time to time, and I must keep up the story that I am
+staying with kind friends.  I told Mr. Williams what I meant to do, and
+he didn't say it were wrong.  Lord, in thy mercy help me to keep this
+dark from the children, and help me to remember, wherever I am, that I
+was born a Phipps and a Simpson.  Coming of that breed, nothing ought
+to daunt me, and I'll live and die showing the good stock I am of."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The omnibus set Grannie down within a quarter of a mile of her
+destination.  She carried a few treasures tied up in a silk
+handkerchief on her left arm, and presently reached the big gloomy
+gates of the workhouse.  Mr. Williams had made all the necessary
+arrangements for her, and she was admitted at once.  A male porter,
+dressed in hideous garb, conducted her across a courtyard to a
+bare-looking office, where she was asked to sit down.  After a few
+minutes the matron appeared, accompanied by a stoutly built woman, who
+called herself the labor matron, and into whose care Grannie was
+immediately given.  She was taken away to the bath-room first of all.
+There her own neat, pretty clothes were taken from her, and she was
+given the workhouse print dress, the ugly apron, the hideous cap, and
+the little three-cornered shawl to wear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What's your age?"  asked the matron.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sixty-eight, ma'am," replied Grannie.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let me see; surely there is something wrong with that hand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, ma'am," replied Grannie solemnly; "it is the hand that has
+brought me here.  I was good at needlework in my day, ma'am, but 'twas
+writing as did it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Writing! did you write much?" asked the matron.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, ma'am, only twice a year at the most, but even them two letters
+cost me sore; they brought on a disease in the hand; it is called
+writers' cramp.  It is an awful complaint, and it has brought me here,
+ma'am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The labor matron looked very hard at Grannie.  She did not understand
+her words, nor the expression on her brave face.  Grannie by no means
+wore the helpless air which characterizes most old women when they come
+to the workhouse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," she said, after a pause, "hurry with your bath; you needn't
+have another for a fortnight; but once a fortnight you must wash here.
+At your age, and with your hand so bad, you won't be expected to do any
+manual work at all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'd rayther, ef you please, ma'am," said Grannie.  "I'm not accustomed
+to settin' idle."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, I don't see that you can do anything; that hand is quite past
+all use, but perhaps the doctor will take a look at it to-morrow.  Now
+get through that bath, and I'll take you to the room where the other
+old women are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good Lord, keep me from thinkin' o' the past," said Grannie when the
+door closed behind her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She got through the bath and put on her workhouse dress, and felt, with
+a chill all through her little frame, that she had passed suddenly from
+life to death.  The matron came presently to fetch her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This way, please," she said, in a tart voice.  She had treated Grannie
+with just a shadow of respect as long as she wore her own nice and
+dainty clothes, but now that she was in the workhouse garb, she looked
+like any other bowed down little woman.  She belonged, in short, to the
+failures of life.  She was hurried down one or two long passages, then
+through a big room, empty at present, which the matron briefly told her
+was the "Able-bodied Women's Ward," and then into another very large
+room, where a bright fire burnt, and where several women, perhaps fifty
+or sixty, were seated on benches, doing some light jobs of needlework,
+or pretending to read, or openly dozing away their time.  They were all
+dressed just like Grannie, and took little or no notice when she came
+in.  She was only one more failure, to join the failures in the room.
+These old women were all half dead, and another old woman was coming to
+share their living grave.  The matron said something hastily, and shut
+the door behind her.  Grannie looked round; an almost wild light lit up
+her blue eyes for a moment, then it died out, and she went softly and
+quietly across the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ef you are cold, ma'am, perhaps you'll like to set by the fire," said
+an old body who must have been at least ten years Grannie's senior.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thank you, ma'am, I'll be much obleeged," said Grannie, and she sat
+down.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her bath had, through some neglect, not been properly heated; it had
+chilled her, and all of a sudden she felt tired, old, and feeble, and a
+long shiver ran down her back.  She held out her left hand to the
+blaze.  A few of the most active of the women approached slowly, and
+either stood and looked at her, or sat down as near her as possible.
+She had very lately come from life; they were most of them accustomed
+to death.  Their hearts were feebly stirred with a kind of dim
+interest, but the life such as Grannie knew was dull and far off to
+them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is a poor sort of place, ma'am," said one of them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie roused herself with a great effort.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ef I begin to grumble I am lost," she said stoutly to herself.  "Well,
+now, it seems to me a fine airy room," she said.  "It is all as it
+strikes a body, o' course," she added, very politely; "but the room
+seems to me lofty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You aint been here long, anybody can see that," said an old woman of
+the name of Peters, with a sniff.  "Wait till you live here day after
+day, with nothin' to do, and nothin' to think of, and nothin' to hear,
+and nothin' to read, and, you may say, nothin' to eat."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear me," said Grannie, "don't they give us our meals?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ef you like to <I>call</I> 'em such," said Mrs. Peters, with a sniff.  And
+all the other women sniffed too.  And when Mrs. Peters emphasized her
+condemnation of the food with a groan, all the other old women groaned
+in concert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie looked at them, and felt that she had crossed an impassable
+gulf.  Never again could she be the Grannie she had been when she awoke
+that morning.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap14"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XIV.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+It was bitterly cold weather when Grannie arrived at the workhouse.
+Not that the workhouse itself was really cold.  Its sanitary
+arrangements were as far as possible perfect; its heating arrangements
+were also fairly good.  Notwithstanding the other old women's groans,
+the food was passable and even nourishing, and beyond the fact that
+there was an absence of hope over everything, there were no real
+hardships in the great Beverley workhouse.  There were a good many old
+women in this workhouse&mdash;in fact, two large wards full&mdash;and these were
+perhaps the most melancholy parts of the establishment.  They slept on
+clean little narrow beds in a huge ward upstairs.  There was a
+partition about eight feet high down the middle of this room.  Beds
+stood in rows, back to back, at each side of this partition; beds stood
+in rows along the walls; there were narrow passages between the long
+rows of beds.  The room was lighted with many windows high up in the
+walls, and there was a huge fireplace at either end.  By a curious
+arrangement, which could scarcely be considered indulgent, the fires in
+very cold weather were lit at nine o'clock in the morning, after the
+paupers had gone downstairs, and put out again at five in the
+afternoon.  Why the old creatures might not have had the comfort of the
+fires when they were in their ward, it was difficult to say, but such
+was the rule of the place.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie's bed was just under one of the windows, and when she went
+upstairs the first night, the chill, of which she had complained ever
+since she had taken her bath, kept her awake during the greater part of
+the hours of darkness.  There were plenty of blankets on her little
+bed, but they did not seem to warm her.  The fact is, there was a great
+chill at her heart itself.  Her vitality was suddenly lowered; she was
+afraid of the long dreary future; afraid of all those hopeless old
+women; afraid of the severe cleanliness, the life hedged in with
+innumerable rules, the dinginess of the new existence.  Her faith
+burned dim; her trust in God himself was even a little shaken.  She
+wondered why such a severe punishment was sent to her; why she, who
+wrote so little, should get a disease brought on by writing.  It seemed
+all incomprehensible, unfathomable, too dark for any ordinary words, or
+any ordinary consolation to reach.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For the first time in her life she forgot her grandchildren, and the
+invariable good luck of the family, and thought mostly about herself.
+Toward morning she fell into a troubled doze, but she had scarcely
+seemed to drop asleep before a great bell sounded, which summoned her
+to rise.  It was just six o'clock, and, at this time of the year, pitch
+dark.  The long ward was now bitterly cold, and Grannie shivered as she
+got into her ugly workhouse dress.  The other old women rose from their
+hard beds with many "ughs" and groans, and undercurrents of grumbling.
+Grannie was much too proud to complain.  They were all dressed by
+five-and-twenty past six, and then they went downstairs in melancholy
+procession, and entered the dining-hall, where their breakfast,
+consisting of tea, bread and margarine, was served to them.  When
+breakfast was over they went upstairs to the ground floor, and Grannie
+found herself again in the ward into which she had been introduced the
+night before.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The women who could work got out their needlework, and began to perform
+their allotted tasks in a very perfunctory manner.  Grannie's fingers
+quite longed and ached for something to do.  She was sent for presently
+to see the doctor, who examined her hand, said it would never be of any
+use again, ordered a simple liniment, and dismissed her.  As Grannie
+was returning from this visit, she met the labor matron in one of the
+corridors.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish you would give me something to do," she said suddenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, what can you do?" asked the matron.  "Has the doctor seen your
+hand?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And what does he say to it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He says it will never be any better."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never be any better!"  The labor matron fixed Grannie with two rather
+indignant eyes.  "And what are you wasting my time for, asking for
+work, when you know you can't do it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, yes; I think I can, ma'am&mdash;that is, with the left hand.  I cannot
+do needlework, perhaps, but I could dust and tidy, and even polish a
+bit.  I have always been very industrious, ma'am, and it goes sore agen
+the grain to do nothin'."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Industrious indeed!" muttered the matron.  "If you had been
+industrious and careful, you wouldn't have found your way here.  No,
+there is no work for you, as far as I can see.  Some of the able-bodied
+women do out the old women's ward; it would never do to trust it to an
+incapable like yourself.  There, I can't waste any more time with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The matron hurried away, and Grannie went back to her seat by the fire,
+in the company of the other old women.  They were curious to know what
+the doctor had said to her, and when she told them they shook their
+heads and groaned, and said they all knew that would be the case.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No one <I>h</I>advanced in life gets better here," said Mrs. Peters; "and
+you are <I>h</I>advanced in life, aint you, ma'am?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not so very," replied Grannie indignantly.  She felt quite young
+beside most of the other old paupers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well now, I calc'late you're close on eighty," said Mrs. Peters.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Indeed, you are mistook," replied Grannie.  "I aint seventy yet.  I'm
+jest at the age when it is no expense at all to live, so to speak.  I
+were sixty-eight last November, and no one can call that old.  At least
+not to say very old."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You look seventy-eight at the very least," said most of the women.
+They nodded and gave Grannie some solemn, queer glances.  They all saw
+a change in her which she did not know anything about herself.  She had
+aged quite ten years since yesterday.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The one variety in the old women's lives was their meals.  Dinner came
+at half-past twelve, and supper at six.  All the huge old family went
+up to bed sharp at eight.  There could not possibly be a more dreary
+life than theirs.  As the days passed on, Grannie recovered from her
+first sense of chill and misery, and a certain portion of her brave
+spirit returned.  It was one of the rules of the workhouse that the
+pauper women of over sixty might go out every Sunday from half-past
+twelve to six.  They might also go out for the same number of hours on
+Thursday.  Those who were in sufficiently good health always availed
+themselves of this outing, and Grannie herself looked forward quite
+eagerly to Sunday.  She scarcely slept on Saturday night for thinking
+of this time of freedom.  She had obtained permission to wear her own
+neat dress, and she put it on with untold pride and satisfaction on
+this Sunday morning.  Once again some of the spirit of the Simpsons and
+Phippses came into her.  She left the workhouse quite gayly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I feel young again," she murmured to herself as she heard the ugly
+gates clang behind her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She walked down the road briskly, took an omnibus, and by and by found
+herself at Bayswater.  She had asked Alison to wait in for her, telling
+the girl that she might be able to pay her a little visit on Sunday.
+When she rang, therefore, the servants' bell at Mrs. Faulkner's
+beautiful house, Alison herself opened the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison looked handsomer than ever in her neat lady's-maid costume.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Grannie," she exclaimed.  "It is good for sore eyes to see you.
+Come in, come in.  You can't think how kind Mrs. Faulkner is.  She says
+I'm to have you all to myself, and you are to stay to dinner, and David
+is here; and the housekeeper (I have been telling the housekeeper a lot
+about you, Grannie) has given us her little parlor to dine in, and Mrs.
+Faulkner is out for the day.  Oh, we'll have quite a good time.  Come
+downstairs at once, dear Grannie, for dinner is waiting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, child, I am pleased to see you so spry," said Grannie.  Her
+voice felt quite choking when she entered the big, luxurious house.
+"I'll be able to keep it up fine," she murmured to herself.  "Lor', I'm
+a sight better; it was the air of that place that was a-killin' me.
+I'll keep it up afore the chil'en, and ef I can manage to do that, why
+bless the Lord for all his mercies."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+David was waiting in the housekeeper's room when Grannie got
+downstairs.  Grannie had never known before what a power of comfort
+there was in David's strong young step, and the feel of his firm
+muscular arms, and the sensation of his manly kiss on her cheek.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aye, Dave," she said, "I'm a sight better for seeing you, my lad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I for seeing you," replied the boy.  "We have missed Grannie,
+haven't we, Ally?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't talk of it," said Alison, tears springing to her blue eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, we're all together again now," said Grannie.  "Bless the Lord!
+Set down each side of me, my darlin's, and tell me everything.  Oh, I
+have hungered to know, I have hungered to know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mine is a very good place," said Alison.  "Mrs. Faulkner is most kind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And ef it weren't for thinking of you, Grannie, and missing you," said
+David, "why, I'd be as happy as the day is long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But tell us about yourself, dear Grannie," said Alison.  "How do you
+like the country, and are Mr. Williams' friends good to you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Real good! that they are," said Grannie.  "Why, it's a beautiful big
+place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are not poor folks, then?" said David.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor!" said Grannie.  "I don't go for to deny that there are some poor
+people there, but they as owns the place aint poor.  Lor' bless yer,
+it's a fine place.  Don't you fret for me, my dearies.  I'm well
+provided for, whoever aint."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But how long are you to stay?" said David.  "You can't always be on a
+visit with folks, even if they are the friends of Mr. Williams."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course I can't stay always," said Grannie, "but Mr. Williams has
+arranged that I am to stay for a good two or three months at least, and
+by then, why, we don't know what 'll turn out.  Now, chil'en, for the
+Lord's sake don't let us waste time over an old body like me.  Didn't I
+tell you that I have come to the time o' life when I aint much 'count?
+Let's talk of you, my dearies, let's talk of you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let's talk of dinner first," said David.  "I'm mighty hungry, whoever
+aint."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The dinner served in Mrs. Faulkner's housekeeper's room was remarkably
+nourishing and dainty, and Grannie enjoyed the food, which was not
+workhouse food, with a zest which surprised herself.  She thought that
+she had completely thrown her grandchildren off the scent, and if that
+were the case, nothing else mattered.  When dinner was over the sun
+shone out brightly, and Alison and David took Grannie out for a walk.
+They went into Kensington Gardens, which were looking very bright and
+pretty.  Then they came home, and Grannie had a cup of tea, after which
+she rose resolutely and said it was time for her to go.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will see you back," said David, in a determined voice.  "I have
+nothing else to do.  I don't suppose those friends of Mr. Williams who
+are so good to you would mind me coming as far as the door."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, they would," said Grannie, "they wouldn't like it a bit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, Grannie, that's all nonsense, you know," said the young man.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No it aint, my lad, no it aint.  You've just got to obey me, David, in
+this matter.  I know what I know, and I won't be gainsaid."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Grannie had suddenly put on her commanding air.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am on a visit with right decent folks&mdash;people well-to-do in the
+world, wot keep up everything in fine style&mdash;and ef they have fads
+about relations comin' round their visitors, why shouldn't they?
+Anyhow, I am bound to respect 'em.  You can't go home with me, Dave,
+but you shall see me to the 'bus, ef you like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well," said Dave, a suspicious, troubled look creeping up into his
+face, "that's all very fine, but I wish you wouldn't make a mystery of
+where you are staying, dear Grannie."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want to," said Grannie.  "It's all Mr. Williams.  He has been
+real kind to me and mine, and ef he wants to keep to himself what his
+friends are doing for me, why shouldn't I obleege him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not, indeed?" said Alison.  "But are you sure you are really
+comfortable, Grannie?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And why shouldn't I be comfortable, child?  I don't look
+uncomfortable, do I?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, not really, but somehow&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, I know what you mean," interrupted David.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Somehow," said Alison, "you look changed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, and ef I do look a bit changed," said the old woman, "it's cause
+I'm a-frettin' for you.  Of course I miss you all, but I'll get
+accustomed to it; and it's a beautiful big place, and I'm in rare luck
+to have got a 'ome there.  Now I must hurry off.  God bless you, my
+dear!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison stood on the steps of Mrs. Faulkner's house, and watched Grannie
+as she walked down the street.  The weather had changed, and it was now
+bitterly cold; sleet was falling, and there was a high wind.  But
+Grannie was leaning on Dave's arm, and she got along bravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't like it," said Alison to herself, as she went into the house.
+"Grannie's hiding something; I can't think what it is.  Oh, dear, oh
+dear, how I wish Jim had been true to me.  If he only had, we would
+have made a home for Grannie somehow.  Grannie is hiding something.
+What can it be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Meanwhile David saw Grannie to the omnibus, where he bade her an
+affectionate "good-by."  She arranged to come again to see her
+grandchildren on the following Sunday if all was well.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But ef I don't come, don't you fret, Dave, boy," was her last word to
+the lad.  "Ef by chance I don't come, you'll know it's because it aint
+quite convenient in the family I'm staying with.  Now, good-by, Dave.
+Bless you, lad."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The omnibus rolled away, and Grannie snuggled back into her corner.
+Her visit to her grandchildren had cheered her much, and she thought
+that she could very well get through a dreary week in the workhouse
+with that beacon post of Sunday on ahead.  She would not for the world
+trouble the children on work-a-day Thursday, but on Sunday she might as
+a rule get a sight of them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And they suspect nothin', thank the good Lord!" she said, hugging her
+secret to her breast.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She left the omnibus at the same corner where she had left it on the
+previous Monday.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The weather meanwhile had been changing for the worse; snow was now
+falling thickly, and the old woman had no umbrella.  She staggered
+along, beaten and battered by the great tempest of wind and snow.  At
+first she stepped on bravely enough, but by and by her steps grew
+feeble.  The snow blinded her eyes and took away her breath, it
+trickled in little pools down into her neck, and seemed to find out all
+the weak parts of her dress.  Her thin black shawl was covered with
+snow; her bonnet was no longer black, but white.  Her heart began to
+beat at first too loudly, then feebly; she tottered forward, stumbling
+as one in a dream.  She was cold, chilled through and through;
+bitterly, bitterly cold.  Suddenly, without knowing it, she put her
+foot on a piece of orange-peel; she slipped, and the next moment lay
+prone in the soft snow.  Her fall took away her last remnant of
+strength; try as she would, she found she could not rise.  She raised
+her voice to call for assistance, and presently a stout laboring man
+came up and bent over the little prostrate woman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let me help you to get up, ma'am," he said politely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He caught hold of her swollen right hand.  The sudden pain forced a
+sharp scream from her lips.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not that hand, please, sir; the other," she said.  She put out her
+left hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nay, I'll lift you altogether," he said.  "Why, you are no weight at
+all.  Are you badly hurt, ma'am?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no, it's nothin'," said Grannie, panting, and breathing with
+difficulty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And where shall I take you to?  You can't walk&mdash;you are not to attempt
+it.  Is your home anywhere near here, ma'am?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In spite of all her pain and weakness, a flush of shame came into the
+old cheeks.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is nigh here, very nigh," said Grannie, "but it aint my home; it's
+Beverley workhouse, please, sir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right," said the man.  He did not notice Grannie's shame.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The next moment he had pulled the bell at the dreary gates, and Grannie
+was taken in.  She was conveyed straight up to the infirmary.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap15"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+CHAPTER XV.
+</H3>
+
+<P>
+It wanted but a week to Jim Hardy's wedding day.  Preparations were in
+full swing, and the Clays' house was, so to speak, turned topsy-turvy.
+Jim was considered a most lucky man.  He was to get five hundred pounds
+with his bride.  With that five hundred pounds Louisa proposed that Jim
+should set up in business for himself.  He and she would own a small
+haberdasher's shop.  They could stock it well, and even put by a
+nest-egg for future emergencies.  Jim consented to all her proposals.
+He felt depressed and unlike himself.  In short, there never was a more
+unwilling bridegroom.  He had never loved Louisa.  She had always been
+repugnant to him.  In a moment of pique he had asked her to marry him,
+and his repentance began half an hour after his engagement.  Still he
+managed to play his part sufficiently well.  Louisa, whose passion for
+him increased as the days went on, made no complaint; she was true to
+her promise, and never mentioned Alison's name, and the wedding day
+drew on apace.  The young people's banns had already been called twice
+in the neighboring church, the next Sunday would be the third time, and
+the following Thursday was fixed for the wedding.  Jim came home late
+one evening tired out, and feeling more depressed than usual.  A letter
+was waiting for him on the mantelpiece.  He had already given notice to
+quit his comfortable bedroom.  He and Louisa were to live for a
+time&mdash;until they had chosen their shop and furnished it&mdash;with the
+Clays.  This arrangement was very disagreeable to Jim, but it did not
+occur to him to demur; his whole mind was in such a state of collapse
+that he allowed Louisa and her people to make what arrangements they
+pleased.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's a letter for you upstairs," said his landlady, as he hurried
+past her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The young man's heart beat fast for a moment.  Could Alison by any
+chance have written to him?  He struck a light hastily and looked at
+the letter, which was lying on his table.  No, the handwriting was not
+Alison's, and when he opened it the first thing he saw was a check,
+which fell out.
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"My Dear Nephew [ran the letter], I hope this finds you well, as it
+leaves me.  You must be a well-grown lad now, and, in short, have come
+to full man's estate.  I have done well in Australia, and if you like
+to join me here, I believe I can put you in the way of earning a good
+living.  I inclose a draft on the City Bank, London, for one hundred
+pounds, which will pay your passage and something over.  If you like to
+come, you will find me at the address at the head of this paper.  I am
+making lots of money, and if you have a head on your shoulders, you can
+help me fine in my business.  If you don't care to come, you may use
+the money to start housekeeping when you marry; but if you are wise you
+will take my advice.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"Your affectionate uncle,<BR>
+<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">"JAMES HARDY."</SPAN><BR>
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Jim fingered the check, and looked absently before him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why shouldn't I get clear out of the whole business?" he said.  "I
+could leave the country to-morrow with this money, and go out and join
+Uncle James, and make my fortune by and by.  Why should I stick to
+Louisa when I hate her?  It's all over with Alison and me.  Oh, Alison,
+how could you love another fellow when I loved you so well, and was so
+true to you?  I can't understand it&mdash;no, I can't.  I don't believe for
+a moment that she was telling me the truth the other day&mdash;why, there is
+no other fellow.  I have made inquiries and I can't hear of anyone.  It
+isn't as if hundreds wouldn't want her, but she is keeping company with
+no one.  I believe it was an excuse she made; there's a mystery at the
+bottom of it.  Something put her out, and she was too proud to let me
+see what it was.  And, oh dear, why was I so mad as to propose marriage
+to a girl like Louisa Clay?  Yes; why shouldn't I get quit of the thing
+to-night?  I have the money now.  I can take Uncle James's advice
+to-night; why shouldn't I do it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim stood straight up as these thoughts came to him.  He slipped the
+foreign letter into his pocket, walked with a long stride to the
+window, flung the sash open, and looked out into the night.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't do it," he muttered; "it isn't in me to be an out-and-out
+scoundrel.  She is not the girl I want, but I have promised her, and I
+must stick to it; all the same, I am a ruined man.  Oh, if Alison had
+only been true to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, old chap, what are you grumbling to yourself for?" said a voice
+just behind him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He turned abruptly and met the keen-eyed, ferret-looking face of the
+detective Sampson.  Sampson and Jim had not been very friendly lately,
+and Jim wondered now in a vague sort of way why his quondam friend had
+troubled himself to visit him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sit down, won't you?" he said abruptly.  "There's a chair."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'll shut the door first," said Sampson.  "I have got a thing or two
+to say to you, and you may as well hear me out.  You aint behaved
+straight to me, Jim; you did a shabby thing behind my back; but, Lor'
+bless you, ef it's saved me from a gel like Louisa Clay, why, I'll be
+obleeged to you to the end of my days.  Look here, I was very near
+committing myself with that girl.  'Twasn't that I loved her, but I
+don't go for to deny that she was good-looking, and she certainly did
+tickle my fancy considerable, and then when I thought of the tidy bit
+of silver that she would have from her father, I made up my mind that
+she would be a good enough match for me; but mind you, I never thought
+her straight&mdash;I never yet was mistook in any character I ever studied
+carefully.  I couldn't follow out my calling if I did, Jim, old chap;
+and that you know well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't suppose you could, George," said Jim; "but I think it only
+fair to tell you before you go a step further, that I am engaged to
+Louisa, and I can't hear her run down by anyone now.  So you may as
+well know that first as last."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Engaged or not," said Sampson, with curious emphasis, "you have got to
+hear a thing or two about Louisa Clay to-night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it is bad, I won't hear it," said Jim, clenching his big hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you are a greater fool than I took you for; but, look here,
+you've got to listen, for it concerns that other girl, the girl you
+used to be so mad on, Alison Reed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim's hands slowly unclenched.  He turned round and fixed his great
+dark eyes with a kind of hungry passion in them on Sampson's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it has anything to do with Alison I am bound to hear it," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you love her still?" said Sampson, in surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Love her!" replied Jim; "aye, lad, that I do.  I am near mad about
+her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And yet you are going to marry Louisa Clay."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So it seems, George, so it seems; but what's the good of talking about
+what can't be cured?  Alison has thrown me over, and I am promised to
+Louisa, and there's an end of it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Seems to me much more like that you have thrown Alison over," said
+Sampson.  "Why, I was in the room that night of the play-acting, and I
+saw Alison Reed just by the stairs, looking as beautiful as a picter,
+and you come up with that other loud, noisy gel, and you talked to her
+werry affectionate, I must say.  I heard what she said to you&mdash;that
+there wasn't a thing in heaven above, or in earth beneath, she wouldn't
+do for you.  Maybe Alison heard them words too; there's no saying.  I
+was so mad at what I thought Louisa's falsehood to me, that I cut the
+whole concern fast enough.  Well, that's not what I have come to talk
+on to-night; it is this: I think I have traced the theft of that
+five-pound note straight home at last."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You haven't?" said Jim.  "Oh, but that's good news indeed; and Alison
+is cleared?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is; but I don't see how it is good news to you, for the theft is
+brought home to the gel what is to be your wife in less than a week."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nonsense!" said Hardy.  "I always said you were too sharp on Louisa.
+She aint altogether to my taste, I am bound to confess, although I have
+promised her marriage; but she's not a thief.  Come, now, you cannot
+get me to believe she's as bad as that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You listen to me, Hardy, and stay quiet," said Sampson.  "I can put
+what I know in a few words, and I will.  From the very first I
+suspected Louisa Clay.  She was jealous of Alison, and had a motive for
+tryin' to do her a bad turn.  She was over head and ears in love with
+you, as all the world could see.  That, when I saw her first, I will
+own, I began to think as she'd be a good mate for myself, and it come
+over me that I wouldn't push the inquiry any further.  It might be well
+to know a secret about your wife, to hold over her in case she proved
+troublesome by'm-by.  I am not a feller with any high notions, as
+perhaps you have guessed&mdash;anyhow, I let the thing drop, and I went in
+for Louisa for the sake of her money.  When she threw me over so sharp,
+you may suppose that my feelings underwent a head-to-tail sort of
+motion, and I picked up the clew pretty fast again, and worked on it
+until I got a good thread in my hand.  I needn't go into particulars
+here about all I did and all I didn't do, but I managed first of all to
+pick up with Shaw, your master.  I met him out one evening, and I told
+him that I knew you, and that you were in an awful taking because your
+gel, Alison Reed, was thought to have stolen a five-pound note.  He
+talked a bit about the theft, and then I asked him if he had the number
+of the note.  He clapped his hand on his thigh, and said what a fool he
+was, but he had never thought of the number until that moment.  He had
+looked at it when he put the note in the till as he supposed, and by
+good luck he remembered it.  He said off to me what he believed it was,
+and I entered it in my notebook.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'I have you now, my fine lady,' I said to myself, and I went off and
+did a little bit of visiting in the smartest shops round, and by and by
+I heard further tidings of the note.  It had been changed, two days
+after it had been stolen, by a young woman answering to Louisa Clay in
+all particulars.  When things had come as far as that, I said to
+myself&mdash;&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Ef there is a case for bluff, this is one.  I'll just go and wring
+the truth from Louisa before she is an hour older.'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I went to see her only this morning.  I blarneyed her a bit
+first&mdash;you know my style&mdash;and then I twitted her for being false to me,
+and then I got up a sort of pretense quarrel, and I worked on her
+feelings until she got into a rage, and when she was all hot and
+peppery, I faced right round on her, and charged her with the theft.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'You stole that five-pound note from the till in Shaw's shop,' I said,
+'and you let Alison Reed be charged with it.  I know you stole it, so
+you needn't deny it.  The number of the note was, one, one, one, seven.
+I have it written here in my note-book.  I traced the note to Dawson's,
+round the corner, and they can swear, if necessary, in a court of
+justice, that you gave it to them in exchange for some yards of black
+silk.  By the way, I believe that is the very identical silk you have
+on you this minute.  Oh, fie, Louisa! you are a bad 'un.'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She turned white as one of them egg-shell china cups, and she put her
+hands before her eyes, and her hands shook.  And after a bit she said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Oh, George, don't have me locked up, and I'll tell you everything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Well, you'll have to put it in writing,' I said, 'or I won't have a
+crumb of mercy on you.'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I got the story out of her, Jim.  It seems the note had never been
+dropped into the till at all, but had fallen on the floor just by the
+manager's desk, and Louisa had seen it and picked it up, and she
+confessed to hoping that Alison would be charged with it.  Here's her
+confession in this envelope, signed and witnessed and all.  So now, you
+can marry her come Thursday ef you like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sampson got up and stretched himself as he spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim's face, which had turned from red to white, and from white again to
+crimson, during this brief narrative, was now stern and dark.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am obliged to you, Sampson," he said, after a pause.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What will you do?" asked the detective, with some curiosity.  "I see
+this is a bit of a blow, and I am not surprised; but what will you do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't tell.  I must think things over.  Do you say you have the
+confession in your pocket?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; in my breast pocket.  Here is the envelope sticking out above my
+coat."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Give it to me," said Jim, stretching out his big hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not I.  That's my affair.  I can make use of this.  Why, I could hold
+a thing of this sort over the head of your fair bride, and blackmail
+her, if necessary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no, Sampson; you are not a ruffian, of that sort."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+George Sampson suddenly changed his manner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As far as you are concerned, Jim, I am no ruffian," he said.  "To tell
+the plain truth, I have always liked yer, and I'll act by you as
+straight as a die in this matter.  If you never do anything else,
+you've saved me from being the husband of that gel, and I'll be
+thankful to you for it to my dying day.  But for the Lord's sake, don't
+you put yourself into the noose now.  You can't be so mad, surely."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Leave me for to-night, Sampson," said Jim in a voice of entreaty.  "I
+can't say anything, I must think.  Leave me for to-night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The detective got up slowly, whistled in a significant manner, and left
+the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, if Jim Hardy is quixotic enough to marry Louisa Clay after what I
+have said, I'll never speak to a good man again as long as I live," he
+muttered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+But Jim Hardy had not made up his mind how to act at all; he was simply
+stunned.  When he found himself alone he sank down on a chair close to
+his little center table, put his elbows on the table, and buried his
+head in his big hands.  The whole bewildering truth was too much for
+him.  He was honest and straight himself, and could not understand
+duplicity.  Louisa's conduct was incomprehensible to him.  What should
+he do now?  Should he be true to one so false?  This question began
+dimly to struggle to obtain an answer in his mind.  He had scarcely
+begun to face it, when a knock at the door, and the shrill voice of his
+landlady calling out, "I have got a letter for you, Mr. Hardy, you are
+in favor with the post to-night," reached him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He walked across the room, opened the door, and took the letter from
+the landlady's hand.  She gave him a quick, curious glance; she saw
+shrewdly enough that something was worrying him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why do he go and marry a girl like that Clay creature?" she muttered
+to herself as she whisked downstairs.  "I wouldn't have her if she had
+double the money they say he's to get with her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim meanwhile stared hard at the writing on his letter.  It was in
+Louisa Clay's straggling, badly formed hand.  He hastily tore open the
+envelope, and read the brief contents.  They ran as follows:
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+"DEAR JIM,&mdash;I dare say you have heard something about me, and I don't
+go for to deny that that something is true.  I was mad when I did it,
+but, mad or sane, it is best now that all should be over between you
+and me.  I couldn't bear to marry you, and you knowing the truth.  Then
+you never loved me&mdash;any fool could see that.  So I am off out of
+London, and you needn't expect to see me any more.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+"Yours no longer,<BR>
+<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">"LOUISA CLAY."</SPAN><BR>
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P>
+Jim's first impulse when he had read this extraordinary and unexpected
+letter was to dance a hornpipe from one end of the room to the other;
+his next was to cry hip, hip, hurrah in a stentorian voice.  His last
+impulse he acted upon.  He caught up his hat and went out as fast as
+ever he could.  With rapid strides he hurried through the crowded
+streets, reached the Bank, and presently found himself on the top of an
+omnibus which was to convey him to Bayswater.  He was following his
+impulse with a beating heart, eyes that blazed with light, and lips
+that trembled with emotion.  He had been a prisoner tied fast in chains
+of his own forging.  All of a sudden he was free.  Impulse should have
+its way.  His heart should dictate to him in very earnest at last.
+With Louisa's letter and his uncle's letter in his pocket, he presently
+reached the great house where Mrs. Faulkner lived.  He had often passed
+that house since Alison had gone to it, walking hungrily past it at
+dead of night, thinking of the girl whom he loved but might never win;
+now he might win his true love after all&mdash;he meant to try.  His
+triumphant steps were heard hurrying down the pavement.  He pulled the
+servants' bell and asked boldly for Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who shall I say?" asked the kitchen-maid who admitted him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Say Jim Hardy, and that my message is urgent," was the reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The girl, who was impressed by Jim's goodly height and breadth, invited
+him into the housekeeper's parlor, where Alison joined him in a few
+minutes.  Her face was like death when she came in; her hand shook so
+that she could scarcely hold it out for Jim to clasp.  He was master,
+however, on this occasion&mdash;the averted eyes, the white face, the
+shaking hand were only all the more reasons why he should clasp the
+maiden he loved to his heart.  He strode across the room and shut the
+door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can we be alone for a few minutes?" he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose so, Jim, if&mdash;if it is necessary," said Alison.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is necessary.  I have something to say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison did not reply.  She was trembling more than ever.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have got to say this," said Jim: "I am off with Louisa Clay.  We're
+not going to be married.  I don't want her, I never wanted her, and now
+it seems that she don't want me.  And, Alison, you are cleared of that
+matter of the five-pound note."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cleared?" said Alison, springing forward, and her eyes lighting up.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, darlin', cleared," said Jim boldly.  "I always knew you were as
+innocent as the dawn, and now all the world will know it.  Sampson,
+good fellow, ferreted out the truth, and it seems&mdash;it seems that Louisa
+is the thief.  Sampson can give you all particulars himself to-morrow;
+but I have come here now to talk on a matter of much more importance.
+I have always loved you, Alison, from the first day I set eyes on you.
+From that first moment I gave you all my heart; my life was yours, my
+happiness yours, and all the love I am capable of.  In an evil hour a
+shadow came atween us; I was mad at losing you, and I asked Louisa to
+wed me; but though I'd 'a' been true to her&mdash;for a promise is a
+promise&mdash;I'd have been the most miserable man what ever lived, for my
+heart would have been yours.  I'd have committed a sin, an awful sin,
+but, thank God, I am saved from that now.  Louisa herself has set me
+free.  There's her letter; you can read it if you want to."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Jim pulled it out of his pocket, and thrust it before Alison's dazzled
+eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no!" she said, pushing it from her; "your word is enough.  I don't
+want to see the letter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She hid her face in her shaking hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was always true to you," continued Jim, "in heart at least; and now
+I want to know if there is any reason why you and me should not be wed
+after all.  I have got money enough, and I can wed you and give you a
+nice home as soon as ever the banns are read, and there'll be a corner
+for Grannie too, by our fireside.  Come, Alison, is there any reason,
+any impediment? as they say in the marriage service.  There aint really
+any other feller, is there, Ally?  That was a sort of way to cheat me,
+Ally; wasn't it, darlin'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, Jim, yes, yes," cried Alison.  "I always loved you with all my
+heart.  I loved you more than ever the day I gave you up, but I was
+proud, and I misunderstood, and&mdash;and&mdash;oh, I can say no more; but I love
+you, Jim, I love you.  Oh, my heart is like to burst, but it is all
+happiness now, for I love you so well&mdash;so true&mdash;so very, very dearly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then that's all right," he answered solemnly.  He took her into his
+arms there and then and held her fast to his beating heart.  They
+kissed each other many times.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alison and Jim were married, and Grannie went to live with them.  She
+was indispensable to the brightness of their home, and even more
+indispensable to the success of their little shop; for Grannie had a
+natural turn for business, and if her eyes were the kindest in all the
+world, they were also the sharpest to detect the least thing not
+perfectly straight in those with whom she had to deal.  So the shop,
+started on thoroughly business principles, flourished well.  And the
+young pair were happy, and the other children by and by made a good
+start in the world, and Grannie's face beamed more and more lovingly as
+the years went on, but never to her dying day did she reveal the secret
+of her visit to the workhouse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was the one piece of bad luck in all my happy life," she was wont
+to murmur to herself, then she would smile and perk up her little
+figure.  "Lord knows, I needn't ha' been frighted," she would add;
+"comin' o' the breed of the Phippses and Simpsons, I might ha' known it
+wouldn't last&mdash;the luck o' the family bein' wot it is."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="finis">
+THE END
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<HR>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="flowers"></A>
+
+<H2 ALIGN="center">
+THE FLOWERS' WORK
+</H2>
+
+<P>
+"See, mother!  I've finished my bouquet.  Isn't it beautiful?  More so,
+I think, than those made by the florist which he asked two dollars for,
+and this has cost me but seventy-five cents."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, yes, it is very pretty.  But, dear me, child, I cannot help
+thinking how illy we can spare so much for such a very useless thing.
+Almost as much as you can make in a day it has cost."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't say <I>useless</I>, mother.  It will express to Edward our
+appreciation of his exertions and their result, and our regards.  How
+he has struggled to obtain a profession!  I only wish I could cover the
+platform with bouquets, baskets and wreaths tonight, when he receives
+his diploma."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, well; if it will do any good, I shall not mind the expense.
+But, child, he will know it is from you, and men don't care for such
+things coming from home folks.  Now, if it was from any other young
+lady, I expect he'd be mightily pleased."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, mother, I don't think so.  Edward will think as much of it, coming
+from his sister-in-law, as from any other girl.  And it will please
+Kate, too.  If <I>we</I> do not think enough of him to send him bouquets,
+who else could?  Rest easy, mother, dear; I feel quite sure my bouquet
+will do much good," answered Annie, putting her bouquet in a glass of
+water.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She left the room to make her simple toilet for the evening.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Grey had been widowed when her two little girls were in their
+infancy.  It had been a hard struggle for the mother to raise her
+children.  Constant toil, privation and anxiety had worn heavily on her
+naturally delicate constitution, until she had become a confirmed
+invalid.  But there was no longer a necessity for her toiling.  Katy,
+the elder daughter, was married; and Annie, a loving, devoted girl,
+could now return the mother's long and loving care.  By her needle she
+obtained a support for herself and mother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Katy's husband held a position under the government, receiving a small
+compensation, only sufficient for the necessities of the present, and
+of very uncertain continuance.  He was ambitious of doing better than
+this for himself, as well as his family.  So he employed every spare
+hour in studying medicine, and it was the night that he was to receive
+his diploma that my little story begins.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The exercises of the evening were concluded.  Edward Roberts came down
+the aisle to where his wife and Annie were seated, bearing his
+flowers&mdash;an elegant basket, tastefully arranged, and a beautiful
+bouquet.  But it needed only a quick glance for Annie to see it was not
+<I>her</I> bouquet.  Although the flowers were fragrant and rare, they were
+not so carefully selected or well chosen.  Hers expressed not alone her
+affection and appreciation, but <I>his</I> energy, perseverance and success.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, where is my bouquet?  I do not see it," asked Annie, a look of
+disappointment on her usually bright face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yours?  I do not know.  Did you send me one?" returned her
+brother-in-law.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Indeed I did.  And such a beauty, too!  It is too bad!  I suppose it
+is the result of the stupidity of the young man in whose hands I placed
+it.  I told him plain enough it was for you, and your name, with mine,
+was on the card," answered Annie, really very much provoked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, do not fret, little sister; I am just as much obliged; and
+perchance some poor fellow not so fortunate as I may have received it,"
+answered Edward Roberts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't, for pity's sake, let mother know of the mistake, or whatever it
+is, that has robbed you of your bouquet.  She will fret dreadfully
+about it," said Annie.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All that night, until she was lost in sleep, did she constantly repeat:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder who has got it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had failed to observe on the list of graduates the name of <I>Edgar
+Roberts</I>, from Ohio, or she might have had an idea into whose hands her
+bouquet had fallen.  Her brother Edward, immediately on hearing Annie's
+exclamation, thought how the mistake had occurred, and was really glad
+that it was as it was; for the young man whose name was so nearly like
+his own was a stranger in the city, and Edward had noticed his
+receiving <I>one</I> bouquet only, which of course was the missing one, and
+Annie's.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Edgar Roberts sat in his room that night, after his return from the
+distribution of diplomas, holding in his hand Annie's bouquet, and on
+the table beside him was a floral dictionary.  An expression of
+gratification was on his pleasant face, and, as again and again his
+eyes turned from the flowers to seek their interpreter, his lips were
+wreathed with smiles, and he murmured low:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Annie Grey!  Sweet Annie Grey!  I never dreamed of any one in this
+place knowing or caring enough for me to send such a tribute.  How
+carefully these flowers are chosen!  What a charming, appreciative
+little girl she is!  Pretty, I know, of course.  I wonder how she came
+to send me this?  How shall I find her?  Find her I must, and know her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And Edgar Roberts fell asleep to dream of Annie Grey, and awoke in the
+morning whispering the last words of the night before:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sweet Annie Grey!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+During the day he found it quite impossible to fix his mind on his
+work; mind and heart were both occupied with thoughts of Annie Grey.
+And so it continued to be until Edgar Roberts was really in love with a
+girl he knew not, nor had ever seen.  To find her was his fixed
+determination.  But how delicately he must go about it.  He could not
+make inquiry among his gentlemen acquaintances without speculations
+arising, and a name sacred to him then, passed from one to another,
+lightly spoken, perhaps.  Then he bethought himself of the city
+directory; he would consult that.  And so doing he found Greys
+innumerable&mdash;some in elegant, spacious dwellings, some in the business
+thoroughfares of the place.  The young ladies of the first mentioned,
+he thought, living in fashionable life, surrounded by many admirers,
+would scarcely think of bestowing any token of regard or appreciation
+on a poor unknown student.  The next would have but little time to
+devote to such things; and time and thought were both spent in the
+arrangement of his bouquet.  Among the long list of Greys he found one
+that attracted him more than all the others&mdash;a widow, living in a quiet
+part of the city, quite near his daily route.  So he sought and found
+the place and exact number.  Fortune favored him.  Standing at the door
+of a neat little frame cottage he beheld a young girl talking with two
+little children.  She was not the blue-eyed, golden-haired girl of his
+dreams, but a sweet, earnest dove-eyed darling.  And what care he,
+whether her eyes were blue or brown, if her name were only Annie?  Oh,
+how could he find out that?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was bidding the little ones "good-bye."  They were off from her, on
+the sidewalk, when the elder child&mdash;a bright, laughing boy of
+five&mdash;sang out, kissing his little dimpled hand:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-bye, Annie, darling!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Edgar Roberts felt as if he would like to clasp the little fellow to
+the heart he had relieved of all anxiety.  No longer a doubt was in his
+mind.  He had found his Annie Grey.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From that afternoon, twice every day he passed the cottage of the widow
+Grey, frequently seeing sweet Annie.  This, however, was his only
+reward.  She never seemed at all conscious of his presence.  Often her
+eyes would glance carelessly toward him.  Oftener they were never
+raised from her work.  Sewing by the window, she always was.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+What next?  How to proceed, on his fixed determination of winning her,
+if possible?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Another bright thought.  He felt pretty sure she attended church
+somewhere; perhaps had a class in the Sabbath school.  So the next
+Sunday morning, at an early hour, he was commanding a view of Annie's
+home.  When the school bells commenced to ring, he grew very anxious.
+A few moments, and the door opened and the object of his thoughts
+stepped forth.  How beautiful she looked in her pretty white suit!  Now
+Edgar felt his cause was in the ascendancy.  Some distance behind, and
+on the other side of the street, he followed, ever keeping her in view
+until he saw her enter a not far distant church.  Every Sunday after
+found him an attentive listener to the Rev. Mr. Ashton, who soon became
+aware of the presence of the young gentleman so regularly, and
+apparently so much interested in the services.  So the good man sought
+an opportunity to speak to Edgar, and urge his accepting a charge in
+the Sabbath school.  We can imagine Edgar needed no great urging on
+that subject; so, frequently, he stood near his Annie.  In the library,
+while selecting books for their pupils, once or twice they had met, and
+he had handed to her the volume for which her hand was raised.  Of
+course a smile and bow of acknowledgment and thanks rewarded him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Edgar was growing happier, and more confident of final success every
+week, when an event came which promised a speedy removal of all
+difficulty in his path.  The school was going to have a picnic.  Then
+and there he would certainly have an introduction to Annie, and after
+spending a whole day with her, he would accompany her home and win the
+privilege of calling often.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The day of the picnic dawned brightly, and the happy party gathered on
+the deck of the steamer.  The first person who met Edgar Roberts' eye
+was his fellow-student, Edward Roberts.  Standing beside him were two
+ladies and some children.  When Edgar hastened up to speak to his
+friend, the ladies turned, and Edward presented:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My wife; my sister, Miss Grey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Edgar Roberts could scarcely suppress an exclamation of joy and
+surprise.  His looks fully expressed how delighted he was.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Three months had he been striving for this, which, if he had only known
+it, could have been obtained so easily through his friend and her
+brother.  But what was so difficult to win was the more highly prized.
+What a happy day it was!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Annie was all he had believed her&mdash;charming in every way.  Edgar made a
+confidant of his friend; told him what Edward well knew before, but was
+wise enough not to explain the mistake&mdash;of his hopes and fears; and won
+from the prudent brother the promise to help him all he could.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Accompanying Annie home that evening, and gaining her permission for
+him to call again, Edgar lost no time in doing so, and often repeated
+the call.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Perhaps Annie thought him very fast in his wooing, and precipitate in
+declaring his love, when, after only a fortnight visiting her, he said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Annie, do you like me well enough, and trust in me sufficiently, to
+allow me to ask your mother to call me her son?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Either so happy or so surprised was Annie, that she could not speak
+just then.  But roses crowded over her fair face, and she did not try
+to withdraw the hand he had clasped.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Say, Annie, love," he whispered.  She raised her eyes to his with such
+a strange, surprised look in them, that he laughed and said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You think I am very hasty, Annie.  You don't know how long I've loved
+you, and have waited for this hour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Long!&mdash;two weeks," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why, Annie, darling, it is over three months since I've been able to
+think of anything save Annie Grey&mdash;ever since the night I received my
+diploma, and your sweet, encouraging bouquet, since that night I've
+known and loved you.  And how I've worked for this hour!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And then he told her how it was.  And when he had finished, she looked
+at him, her eyes dancing merrily, and though she tried hard to keep the
+little rosebud of a mouth demurely shut, it was no use&mdash;it would open
+and let escape a rippling laugh, as she said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And this is the work my bouquet went about, is it?  This is the good
+it has done me&mdash;"  She hesitated; the roses deepened their color as she
+continued: "And you&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, Annie, it has done much good to me, and I hope to you too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But, Edgar&mdash;" it was the first time she had called him thus, and how
+happy it made him&mdash;"I must tell you the truth&mdash;I never sent you a
+bouquet!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No! oh, do not say so.  Can there be another such Annie Grey?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; I am the one who sent the bouquet; but, Edgar, you received it
+through a mistake.  It was intended for my brother-in-law, Edward!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Stop, Annie, a moment&mdash;  Are you sorry that mistake was made?  Do you
+regret it?" said Edgar, his voice filled with emotion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No indeed, I am very glad you received it instead," Annie ingenuously
+replied; adding quickly, "But, please, do not tell Edward I said so."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, no; I will not tell him that you care a little more for <I>Edgar</I>
+than <I>Edward</I>.  Is that it?  May I think so, Annie?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She nodded her head, and he caught her to his heart, whispering:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mine at last.  My Annie, darling!  What a blessed mistake it was!  May
+I go to your mother, Annie?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; and I'll go with you, Edgar, and hear if she will admit those
+flowers did any good.  She thought it a useless expenditure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The widow Grey had become very much attached to the kind, attentive
+young man, and when he came with Annie, and asked her blessing on their
+love, she gave it willingly; and after hearing all about the way it
+happened, she said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never did flowers such a good work before.  They carried Edgar to
+church, made a Christian of him, and won for Annie a good, devoted
+husband, and for me an affectionate son."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="finis">
+THE END.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+<HR>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+
+<A NAME="chap17"></A>
+
+<H3 ALIGN="center">
+FAMOUS BOOKS IN REBOUND EDITIONS
+</H3>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+HEIDI
+<BR>
+A Child's Story of Life in the Alps
+<BR>
+By Johanna Spyri
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+PINOCCHIO
+<BR>
+A Tale of a Puppet&mdash;By C. Collodi
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+ELSIE DINSMORE
+<BR>
+By Martha Finley
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+BROWNIES AND OTHER STORIES
+<BR>
+Illustrated by Palmer Cox
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+HELEN'S BABIES
+<BR>
+By John Habberton
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+HANS BRINKER; or, The Silver Skates
+<BR>
+By Mary Mapes Dodge
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+RAINY DAY DIVERSIONS
+<BR>
+By Carolyn Wells
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+PLEASANT DAY DIVERSIONS
+<BR>
+By Carolyn Wells
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent">
+M. A. DONOHUE &amp; CO.
+<BR>
+701-763 So. Dearborn Street.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Luck, by L. T. Meade
+
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diff --git a/28565.txt b/28565.txt
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index 0000000..36c80c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28565.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6059 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Luck, by L. T. Meade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Good Luck
+
+Author: L. T. Meade
+
+Release Date: April 12, 2009 [EBook #28565]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOOD LUCK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+GOOD LUCK
+
+
+BY
+
+MRS. L. T. MEADE
+
+
+
+Author of Polly, A Sweet Girl Graduate, Etc.
+
+
+
+
+M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
+
+CHICAGO ------------ NEW YORK
+
+1896
+
+
+
+
+GOOD LUCK
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Amongst the crowd of people who were waiting in the Out-Patients'
+Department of the London Hospital on a certain foggy day toward the
+latter end of November might have been seen an old cherry-cheeked
+woman.  She had bright blue eyes and firm, kindly lips.  She was a
+little woman, slightly made, and her whole dress and appearance were
+somewhat old-fashioned.  In the first place, she was wonderfully
+pretty.  Her little face looked something like a russet apple, so clear
+was her complexion and so bright and true the light in her eyes.  Her
+hair was snow-white, and rather fluffy in texture; it surrounded her
+forehead like a silver halo, adding to the picturesque effect of apple
+cheeks and deep blue eyes.  Her attire was quaint and old-fashioned.
+She wore a neat black dress, made without the least attempt at
+ornament; round her neck was a snowy kerchief of somewhat coarse but
+perfectly clean muslin; over her shoulders a little black shawl was
+folded corner-ways, and pinned neatly with a large black-headed pin at
+her breast.  A peep of the snowy handkerchief showed above the shawl;
+the handkerchief vied with the white of her hair.  On her head was a
+drawn black silk bonnet with a tiny border of white net inside.  Her
+hands were clothed in white cotton gloves.  She stood on the borders of
+the crowd, one of them, and yet apart from them, noticeable to everyone
+present by her pretty, dainty neatness, and by the look of health which
+to all appearance she possessed.  This had evidently been her first
+visit to the Out-Patients' Department.  Some _habitues_ of the place
+turned and stared at her, and one or two women who stood
+near--burdened, pallid, ill-looking women--gave her a quick glance of
+envy, and asked her with a certain show of curiosity what ailed her.
+
+"It's my hand, dear," was the reply.  "It pains awful--right up to the
+shoulder."
+
+"It's rheumatis you've got, you poor thing," said one of the women who
+had addressed her.
+
+"No, I don't think it's exactly that," was the reply; "but the doctor
+'ll tell.  I can't hold my needle with the pain; it keeps me awake o'
+nights.  Oh, we must all have our share," she added cheerfully; "but ef
+it were the will of the Almighty, I'd rayther not have my share o' pain
+in my right hand."
+
+"You does needlework fer a living, I suppose?" said a man who stood
+near.
+
+"Yes.  I only 'opes to the Lord that my working hand isn't going to be
+taken from me--but there, I'll soon know."
+
+She smiled brightly at these words, and addressed one of her neighbors
+with regard to the state of that neighbor's baby--the child was
+evidently suffering from ophthalmia, and could scarcely open its eyes.
+
+It was cold in the out-patients' waiting-room, and the crowd became
+impatient and anxious, each for his or her turn to see the doctors who
+were in attendance.  At last the little woman with the white hair was
+admitted to the consulting-room.  She was shown in by a dresser, and
+found herself face to face with the doctor.  He said a few words to
+her, asked her some questions with regard to her symptoms, looked at
+the hand, touched the thumb and forefinger, examined the palm of the
+hand very carefully, and then pronounced his brief verdict.
+
+"You are suffering from what is equivalent to writers' cramp, my good
+woman," he said.
+
+"Lor', sir," she interrupted, "I respec'fully think you must be
+mistook.  I never take a pen in my 'and oftener nor twice a year.  I
+aint a schollard, sir."
+
+"That don't matter," was the reply; "you use your needle a good deal."
+
+"Of course, and why shouldn't I?"
+
+"How many hours a day do you work?"
+
+"I never count the hours, sir.  I work all the time that I've got.  The
+more I work, the more money there be, you understand."
+
+"Yes, I quite understand.  Well, you must knock it off.  Here!  I shall
+order you a certain liniment, which must be rubbed into the hand two or
+three times a day."
+
+"But what do you mean by knocking it off, sir?"
+
+"What I say--you must stop needlework.  Johnson," continued Dr. Graves,
+raising his eyes and looking at the dresser, "send in another patient."
+He rose as he spoke.
+
+"I am sorry for you, my poor woman," he said, "but that hand is
+practically useless.  At your age, there is not the most remote chance
+of recovery.  The hand will be powerless in a few months' time,
+whatever you do; but if you spare it--in short, give it complete
+rest--it may last a little longer."
+
+"And do you mean, sir, that I'm never to do sewing again?"
+
+"I should recommend you to knock it off completely and at once; by so
+doing you will probably save yourself a good deal of suffering, and the
+disease may not progress so rapidly--in any case, the power to sew will
+soon leave you.  Use the liniment by all means, take care of your
+health, be cheerful.  Good-morning."
+
+The doctor accompanied the little woman to the door of the
+consulting-room; he opened the door for her, and bowed as she passed
+out.  He treated her almost as if she were a lady, which in very truth
+she was in every sense of the word.  But she did not notice his
+politeness, for his words had stunned her.  She walked slowly, with a
+dazed look in her eyes, through the crowd of people who were waiting to
+be admitted to the different physicians, and found herself in the open
+street.  Her name was Patience Reed, she was sixty-eight years of age,
+and was the grandmother of six orphan children.
+
+"Good Lord, what do it mean?" she murmured as she walked quickly
+through the sloppy, dark, disagreeable streets.  "I'm to lose the power
+of this 'and, and I'm not to do any more needlework.  I don't believe
+it's true.  I don't believe that doctor.  I'll say nothing to Alison
+to-day.  Good Lord, I don't believe for a moment you'd afflict me in
+this awful sort of way!"
+
+She walked quickly.  She had by nature a very light and cheerful heart;
+her spirit was as bright and cheery as her appearance.  She picked up
+her courage very soon, stepped neatly through the miry, slippery
+streets, and presently reached her home.  Mrs. Reed and the six
+grandchildren lived in a model lodging-house in a place called Sparrow
+Street, off Whitechapel Road.  The house possessed all the new sanitary
+improvements, a good supply of water was laid on, the rooms were well
+ventilated, the stoves in the little kitchens burned well, the rents
+were moderate, there was nothing at all to complain of in the home.
+Mrs. Reed was such a hearty, genial, hard-working woman that she would
+have made any home bright and cheerful.  She had lived in Whitechapel
+for several years, but her work lay mostly in the West End.  She
+belonged to the old-fashioned order of needlewomen.  She could do the
+most perfect work with that right hand which was so soon to be useless.
+Machine-made work excited her strongest contempt, but work of the best
+order, the finest hand-made needlework, could be given over to her care
+with perfect satisfaction.  She had a good connection amongst the West
+End shops, and had year after year earned sufficient money to bring up
+the six orphan children comfortably and well.  Alison, the eldest girl,
+was now seventeen, and was earning her own living in a shop near by.
+David was also doing something for himself, but the four younger
+children were still dependent on Grannie.  They were all like her as
+regards high spirits, cleanliness, and a certain bright way of looking
+at life.
+
+"I'll not be discouraged, and I'll not believe that doctor," she
+murmured, as she mounted the long flight of stairs which led to the
+fifth floor.  "Aint I always 'ad good luck all the days o' a long
+life?"  She reached her own landing at last, panting a little for
+breath as she did so.  She opened her hall door with a latch-key and
+entered the kitchen.  The kitchen was absolutely neat, the stove shone
+like a looking-glass, the dinner was cooking in the oven, and the table
+round which the entire family were soon to dine already wore its coarse
+white cloth.
+
+"There, I'm not going to murmur," said the old woman to herself.
+
+She went into her bedroom, took off her shawl, shook it out, folded it
+neatly, and put it away.  She took off her bonnet and dusted it, pinned
+it into an old white cambric handkerchief, and laid it beside the shawl
+on a little shelf.  Her white gloves and white handkerchief shared the
+same attention.  Then she brushed her white hair, put on a neat cap,
+and returned to the kitchen.
+
+Ten minutes afterward this kitchen was full of noise, life, and
+confusion.  The four younger children had come back from Board school.
+Harry, the eldest boy, had rushed in from a bookseller's near by, and
+Alison, who served behind a counter in one of the shops in Shoreditch,
+had unexpectedly returned.
+
+Alison was a very tall and pretty girl.  She had dark blue eyes and an
+upright carriage; her hair was golden with some chestnut shades in it.
+She had a clear complexion like her grandmother's, and firm lips, with
+a sweet expression.  As a rule she had a cheerful face, but to-day she
+looked anxious.  Grannie gave her one quick glance, and guessed at once
+that something was troubling her.
+
+"Now, I wonder what's up?" she thought.  "Well, I shan't burden the
+child with my troubles to-day."
+
+"Come," she said in a hearty voice, "sit you all down in your places.
+Kitty, my girl, say your grace.  That's right," as the child folded her
+hands, closed her eyes, raised her piping voice, and pronounced a grace
+in rhyme in a sing-song tone.
+
+The moment the grace was finished a huge potato pie made its appearance
+out of the oven, and the meal--good, hearty, and nourishing--began.
+Grannie helped all the children.  She piled the daintiest bits on
+Alison's plate, watching the girl without appearing to do so as she
+played with her dinner.
+
+"Come, Ally, you are not eating," said Grannie.  "This will never do.
+It's a real pleasure to have you back in the middle of the day, and you
+must show it by making a good meal.  Ah, that's better.  Help your
+sister to some bread, David."
+
+David was between fifteen and sixteen years of age, a fine well-grown
+lad.  He looked attentively at Alison, opened his lips as if to say
+something, caught a warning glance from her eyes, and was instantly
+silent.  Alison forced herself to eat some of the nourishing pie, then
+she looked full at Grannie.
+
+"By the way, Grannie," she said, "you were to see the doctor at the
+London Hospital this morning, were you not?"
+
+"Yes, child; what about it?  I'll have a piece of bread, David, if you
+will cut it for me."
+
+David did so.  Alison detected some concealment in Grannie's voice, and
+pursued her inquiries.
+
+"What did he say?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, what didn't he say.  Nothing special--the old kind of story.  I
+never thought much of plaguing a doctor for a common sort of thing like
+this.  I'm to rub the hand with liniment three times a day.  There's
+the bottle on that shelf.  I 'spect I'll be all right in a week or a
+fortnight.  Now, children, hurry up with your dinner; you'll have to be
+off to school in less than ten minutes, so there's no time to lose."
+
+The children began to eat quickly.  Alison and David again exchanged
+glances.  Harry suddenly pushed back his chair.
+
+"You say your grace before you go," said Grannie, fixing him with her
+bright blue eyes.
+
+He blushed a little, muttered a word or two, and then left the room.
+
+"Harry is a good lad," said the old lady when he had gone, "but he is
+getting a bit uppish.  He's a masterful sort.  He aint like you, Dave."
+
+"I am masterful in my own way," answered David.
+
+He crossed the room, bent over the little old woman, and kissed her on
+the forehead.
+
+"Harry and I will be a bit late to-night," he said.  "We've joined a
+boys' club in Bethnal Green."
+
+"A club?" said Grannie.  "You're young to be out at nights by yourself.
+What sort of club?"
+
+"Oh, It's a first-rate sort.  It has been opened by a good man.  He's a
+right down jolly fellow, though he is a swell.  There's boxing and all
+kinds of good games going on there."
+
+"It's all right, Grannie," interrupted Alison.  "Boys must grow into
+men," she added, in a quick voice.
+
+"Dear me," answered the old woman, "I don't know nothing, I suppose!
+When I was young, boys in their teens stayed at home.  But there! you
+are a good lad, Dave, and I'll trust you to keep Harry out of mischief."
+
+"Harry is well enough, Grannie, if you'd only trust him."
+
+"Well, I suppose I must.  Give me a kiss, Dave, and be off.  Children,
+loves, what are you pottering about for?"
+
+"We're ready to go now, Grannie," said the little ones.
+
+They shouldered their bags, put on their hats, and left the room with
+considerable clatter, only first of all each small pair of legs made
+for Grannie's chair, each rosy pair of lips bestowed a vigorous kiss
+upon her apple-blossom cheeks.  She patted them on their shoulders,
+smiled at them with happy eyes full of love; and they rushed off to
+school, grumbling a little at her quick, abrupt ways, but loving her
+well deep down in their hearts.
+
+Alison stood up and began to put away the dinner things.  Alison and
+Mrs. Reed were now alone.  The old woman looked anxiously at the girl.
+Alison's figure was very slight and graceful.  She wore her shop dress,
+too, a neat black alpaca.  The young ladies in the shops in High
+Street, Shoreditch, could not afford black silk, but the shop in
+question was a good one, and black alpaca, neatly made, had quite as
+good an effect.  Alison's hair was put up stylishly on her head.  She
+wore a little bit of cheap lace round her throat, and a bit of the same
+came from under the neat wrists of her dress.  Two or three small
+chrysanthemums were pinned at her bosom.  Grannie thought her quite the
+lady.
+
+"I wish, child, you wouldn't slave yourself!" she said at last
+impatiently.  "What's the old woman for if it isn't to wash up and put
+in order? and I'm quite certain you ought to be back at the shop by
+now."
+
+"I'm not going back," said Alison, in a low tone.
+
+Grannie had guessed this from the first.  She did not speak at all for
+a minute, then she chose to dally with the evil tidings.
+
+"It's a holiday you are having most like," she said.  "I didn't know
+they gave 'em at this time of the year, but I'm real glad.  I expect
+you let Jim Hardy know.  He'll be sure to be round bimeby when his
+work's over, and you'd like the kitchen to yourselves, wouldn't you?"
+
+"No, Grannie, no," said Alison abruptly.  "There's no Jim for me any
+more, and there's no work, and--and--I'm in _trouble_--I'm in trouble."
+
+She crossed the room impulsively, went on her knees, swept her two
+young arms round Grannie's frail figure, laid her head on the little
+woman's sloping shoulder, and burst into tears.
+
+Grannie was wonderfully comforting and consoling.  She did not express
+the least surprise.  She patted Alison on her cheek.  She allowed the
+girl to grasp her painful right hand and swollen arm without a word of
+protest.
+
+"There, lovey, there, cry your heart out," she exclaimed.  "You 'a'
+lost your situation.  Well, you aint the first; you'll soon get
+another, dearie, and you'll be a rare bit of comfort to me at home for
+a few days.  There, set down close to me, darlin', and tell me
+everythink.  Wot's up, my pretty, wot's wrong?"
+
+"I thought I wouldn't tell you," said Alison, stopping to wipe her
+tears away, "but I can't keep it back.  They have accused me in the
+shop of stealing a five-pound note out of the till.  Yes, Grannie, no
+wonder you open your eyes.  It is true; I am accused of being a thief.
+They are all sure that I have done it.  A five-pound note is missing;
+and you know how Mr. Shaw has sometimes trusted me, and sometimes, when
+he has been very busy, he has allowed me to go to the desk and open the
+till and take out change.  Well, that was what happened to-day.  A
+customer came in and asked Mr. Shaw to change a five-pound note for
+him, and Mr. Shaw went to the till to get the change, and then he shut
+it up, but he left the key in the lock, meaning to get back to his
+place at the desk in a minute; but business kept him, and I was the
+very next person to go to the till.  I locked it after I had taken out
+the change, and gave him the key.  He went back in a minute or two to
+take out the money to carry to the bank, and the five-pound note was
+missing.  He asked me out sharp if I had taken it--you know how red I
+get when anyone suspects me.  I felt myself blushing awfully, and then
+the other girls stopped working and the men, even Jim, stared at me,
+and I blushed hotter and hotter every minute.  Then Mr. Shaw said: 'You
+were overcome by temptation, Alison Reed, and you took the money; but
+give it back to me now at once, and I'll promise to forgive you, and
+say nothing more about it.'
+
+"Oh, I was so angry, and I said they might search me, and Mr. Shaw got
+angry then, and he got one of the girls to feel me all over and to turn
+my pockets inside out, and he called himself real kind not to get in
+the police.  Oh, Grannie, of course they couldn't find it on me, but I
+was searched there in the shop before everyone.  How am I ever to get
+over the shame?  I was nearly mad with passion, and I gave notice on
+the spot, and here I am.  I told Mr. Shaw that I would never enter his
+shop again until I was cleared, and I mean to keep my word.
+
+"Mr. Shaw seemed more angry with me for giving notice than he was at
+the loss of the note.  He said he was certain I took it, for no one
+else could, and that I had hid it somewhere, and that I was afraid to
+stay, and he said he wouldn't give me any character.  So here I am,
+Grannie.  I have lost my eight shillings a week, and I have lost my
+character, and I am suspected of being a thief--here I am, good for
+nothing.  I have just got my neat shop dress and that is all."
+
+"And does Jim Hardy know?" asked Grannie.
+
+"He was in the shop, of course, and heard everything.  I saw he wanted
+to speak, but they wouldn't let him; if he asks me again to be his
+wife, I shall say 'no' to him.  I never was quite certain whether I'd
+do right or wrong in marrying him, but now I'm positive.  Jim's a right
+good fellow, but he shan't ever have it to say that his wife was
+accused of theft.  I'm going to refuse him, Grannie.  I suppose I'll
+bear all this as well as another.  I'm young, anyway, and you believe
+in me, dont you?"
+
+"Believe in you?  of course!" said Mrs. Reed.  "I never heard of such a
+shameful thing in all my life.  Why, you are as honest as the day.  Of
+course that note will be found, and Mr. Shaw, who knows your value,
+will ask you to go back fast enough.  It 'll be all right, that it
+will.  I know what I'll do, I'll go straight to the shop and speak
+about it.  I'm not going to stand this, whoever else is.  It aint a
+slight thing, Alison; it aint the sort of thing that a girl can get
+over.  There are you, only seventeen, and so pretty and like a real
+lady.  Yes, you are; you needn't pertend you aint.  Me and my people
+were always genteel, and you take after us.  I'll see to it.  You
+shan't be accused of theft, my dear, ef I can help it."
+
+"But you can't help it, Grannie dear.  Whatever you say they won't
+believe you.  There is a girl I hate at the shop, and only that I know
+it is impossible, I could believe that she had a finger in the pie.
+Her name is Louisa Clay.  She is rather handsome, and at one time we
+used to be friends, but ever since Jim and I began to keep company she
+has looked very black at me.  I think she has a fancy that Jim would
+have taken to her but for me; anyhow, I could not help seeing how
+delighted she looked when I went out of the shop.  Oh, let it be,
+Grannie; what is the use of interfering?  You may talk yourself hoarse,
+but they won't believe you."
+
+"Believe me or not, Mr. Shaw has got to hear what I say," answered the
+old woman.  "I am not going to see my girl slighted, nor falsely
+accused, nor her good name taken from her without interfering.  It is
+no use talking, Alison; I will have my way in this matter."
+
+Grannie rose from her chair as she spoke.  Her cheeks were quite
+flushed new, her eyes were almost too bright, and her poor hand ached
+and ached persistently.  Alison, who had been sitting on the floor
+shedding tears now and then, rose slowly, walked to the window, and
+looked out.  She was feeling half stunned.  She was by nature a very
+bright, happy girl.  Until this moment things had gone well with her in
+life.  She was clever, and had carried all before her at the Board
+school.  She was also pretty, and, as Grannie expressed it, "genteel."
+She had got a good post in a good shop, and until to-day had been
+giving marked satisfaction.  Her earnings were of great value to the
+little home party, and she was likely before long to have a rise.  Mr.
+Shaw, the owner of the haberdasher's shop in which she worked, talked
+of making Alison his forewoman before long.  She had a stylish
+appearance.  She showed off his mantles and hats to advantage; she had
+a good sharp eye for business; she was very civil and obliging; she won
+her way with all his customers; there was not a girl in the shop who
+could get rid of remnants like Alison; in short, she was worth more
+than a five-pound note to him, and when she was suddenly accused of
+theft, in his heart of hearts he was extremely sorry to lose her.
+Alison was too happy up to the present moment not to do her work
+brightly and well.
+
+The foreman in Shaw's shop was a young man of about four-and-twenty.
+His name was Hardy.  He was a handsome fellow; he had fallen in love
+with Alison almost from the first moment he had seen her.  A week ago
+he had asked her to be his wife; she had not yet given him her answer,
+but she had long ago given him her heart.
+
+Now everything was changed; a sudden and very terrible blow had fallen
+on the proud girl.  Her pride was humiliated to the very dust.  She had
+held her head high, and it was now brought low.  She resolved never to
+look at Hardy again.  Nothing would induce her to go back to the shop.
+Oh, yes, Grannie might go to Mr. Shaw and talk as much as she liked,
+but nothing would make matters straight now.
+
+Mrs. Reed was very quick about all she said and did.  She was tired
+after her long morning of waiting in the Out-Patients' Department of
+the London Hospital, but mere bodily fatigue meant very little to her.
+One of her nurslings--the special darling of her heart--was humiliated
+and in danger.  It was her duty to go to the rescue.  She put on her
+black bonnet and neat black shawl, encased her little hands once again
+in her white cotton gloves, and walked briskly through the kitchen.
+
+"I'm off, Ally," she said.  "I'll be back soon with good news."
+
+Then she paused near the door.
+
+"Ef you have a bit of time you might go on with some of the
+needlework," she said.
+
+She thought of the hand which ached so sorely.
+
+"Yes, Grannie," replied Alison, turning slowly and looking at her.
+
+"You'll find the basket in the cupboard, love.  I'm doing the
+feather-stitching now; don't you spoil the pattern."
+
+"No, Grannie," answered the girl.  Then she added abruptly, her lips
+quivering: "There aint no manner of use in your going out and tiring
+yourself."
+
+"Use or not, I am going," said Mrs. Reed.
+
+"By the way, if Jim should happen to come in, be sure you keep him.  I
+have a bit of a saveloy in the cupboard to make a flavor for his tea.
+Don't you bother with that feather-stitching if Jim should be here."
+
+"He won't be here," said Alison, compressing her lips.
+
+Mrs. Reed pottered down the long steep flight of steps, and soon found
+herself in the street.  The fog had grown thicker than ever.  It was
+very dense indeed now.  It was so full of sulphuric acid that it
+smarted the eyes and hurt the throats and lungs of the unfortunate
+people who were obliged to be out in it.  Grannie coughed as she
+threaded her way through the well-known streets.
+
+"Dear, dear," she kept muttering under her breath, "wot an evil world
+it is!  To think of a young innocent thing being crushed in that sort
+of cruel way!  Wot do it mean?  Of course things must be set right.
+I'll insist on that.  I aint a Reed for nothing.  The Reeds are
+well-born folks, and my own people were Phippses, and they were
+well-born too.  And as to the luck o' them, why, 'twas past tellin'.
+It don't do for one who's Phipps and Reed both, so to speak, to allow
+herself to be trampled on.  I'll soon set things straight.  I've got
+sperrit, wotever else I aint got."
+
+She reached Shaw's establishment at last.  It was getting well into the
+afternoon, and for some reason the shop was more full than usual.  It
+was a very cheap shop and a very good one--excellent bargains could be
+found there--and all the people around patronized it.  Alison was
+missed to-day, having a very valuable head for business.  Shaw, the
+owner of the shop; was standing near the doorway.  He felt cross and
+dispirited.  He did not recognize Mrs. Reed when she came in.  He
+thought she was a customer, and bowed in an obsequious way.
+
+"What can I serve you with, madam?" he said.  "What department do you
+want to go to?"
+
+"To none, thank you, sir," answered Mrs. Reed.  "I have come to see Mr.
+Shaw.  I'll be much obleeged if I can have a few words with him."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Shaw!  Well, I happen to be that gentleman.  I am certainly
+very much occupied at present; in fact, my good woman, I must trouble
+you to call at a less busy time."
+
+"I must say a word to you now, sir, if you please," said Mrs. Reed,
+raising her eyes and giving him a steady glance.  "My name is Reed.  I
+have come about my grandchild."
+
+"Oh," said the owner of the shop, "you are Mrs. Reed."  His brow
+cleared instantly.  "I shall be pleased to see you, madam.  Of course
+you have come to talk over the unpleasant occurrence of this morning.
+I am more grieved than I can say.  Step this way, madam, if you please."
+
+He marched Grannie with pomp through the crowd of customers; a moment
+later she found herself in his private office.
+
+"Now," he said, "pray be seated.  I assure you, Mrs. Reed, I greatly
+regret----"
+
+"Ef you please, sir," said Grannie, "it is not to hear your regrets
+that I have come here.  A great wrong has been done my granddaughter.
+Alison is a good girl, sir.  She has been well brought up, and she
+would no more touch your money than I would.  I come of a respectable
+family, Mr. Shaw.  I come of a stock that would scorn to steal, and I
+can't say more of Alison than that she and me are of one mind.  She
+left her 'ome this morning as happy a girl as you could find, and came
+back at dinner time broken-'earted.  Between breakfast and dinner a
+dreadful thing happened to her; she was accused of stealing a
+five-pound note out of your till.  She said she were innocent, but was
+not believed.  She was searched in the presence of her fellow shop
+people.  Why, sir, is it likely she could get over the shame o' that?
+Of course you didn't find the money on her, but you have broke her
+heart, and she 'ave left your service."
+
+"Well, madam, I am very sorry for the whole thing, but I do not think I
+can be accused of undue harshness to your granddaughter.  Circumstances
+were strongly against her, but I didn't turn her off.  She took the law
+into her own hands, as far as that is concerned."
+
+"Of course she took the law into her own hands, Mr. Shaw.  'Taint
+likely that a girl wot has come of the Phippses and the Reeds would
+stand that sort of conduct.  I'm her grandmother, born a Phipps, and I
+ought to know.  You used rough words, sir, and you shamed her before
+everyone, and you refused her a _character_, so she can't get another
+place.  Yes, sir, you have taken her character and her bread from her
+by the same _h_act, and wot I have come to say is that I won't have it."
+
+Mr. Shaw began to lose his temper--little Mrs. Reed had long ago lost
+hers.
+
+"Look here, my good woman," he said, "it's very fine for you to talk in
+that high-handed style to me, but you can't get over the fact that five
+pounds are missing."
+
+"I 'aven't got over it, sir; and it is because I 'aven't that I've come
+to talk to you to-day.  The money must be found.  You must not leave a
+stone unturned until it is found, for Alison must be cleared of this
+charge.  That is wot I have come to say.  There's someone else a thief
+in your house, sir, but it aint my girl."
+
+"I am inclined to agree with you," said Shaw, in a thoughtful voice,
+"and I may as well say now that I regret having acted on the impulse of
+the moment.  The facts of the case are these: Between eleven and twelve
+o'clock to-day, one of my best customers came here and asked me to give
+him change for a five-pound note.  I went to the till and did so,
+taking out four sovereigns and a sovereign's worth of silver, and
+dropped the five-pound note into the till in exchange.  In my hurry I
+left the key in the till.  Miss Reed was standing close to me, waiting
+to ask me a question, while I was attending to my customer.  As soon as
+he had gone she began to speak about some orders which had not been
+properly executed.  While I was replying to her, and promising to look
+into the matter, a couple of customers came in.  Miss Reed began to
+attend to them.  They bought some ribbons and gloves, and put down a
+sovereign to pay for them.  She asked me for change, and being in a
+hurry at the moment, I told her to go to the till and help herself.
+She did so, bringing back the change, and at the same time giving me
+the key of the till.  I put the key into my pocket, and the usual
+business of the morning proceeded.  After a time I went to open the
+till to take out the contents in order to carry the money to the bank.
+I immediately missed the five-pound note.  You will see for yourself,
+Mrs. Reed, that suspicion could not but point to your granddaughter.
+She had seen the whole transaction.  To my certain knowledge no one
+else could have gone to the till without being noticed.  I put the
+five-pound note into the till with my own hands.  Miss Reed went at my
+request to get change for a customer.  She locked the till and brought
+me the key, and when I next went to it the five-pound note had
+disappeared."
+
+"And you think that evidence sufficient to ruin the whole life and
+character of a respectable girl?" said Mrs. Reed.
+
+"There is no use in your taking that high tone, madam.  The evidence
+against Miss Reed was sufficient to make me question her."
+
+"Accuse her, you mean," said Mrs. Reed.
+
+"Accuse her, if you like then, madam, of the theft."
+
+"Which she denied, Mr. Shaw."
+
+"Naturally she would deny it, Mrs. Reed."
+
+"And then you had her searched."
+
+"I was obliged to do so for the credit of the whole establishment, and
+the protection of my other workpeople; the affair had to be gone
+properly into."
+
+"But you found nothing on her."
+
+"As you say, I found nothing.  If Miss Reed took the money she must
+have hidden it somewhere else."
+
+"Do you still think she took it?"
+
+"I am inclined to believe she did not, but the puzzle is, who did? for
+no one else had the opportunity."
+
+"You may be certain," said Mrs. Reed, "that someone else did have the
+opportunity, even without your knowing it.  Clever thieves can do that
+sort of thing wonderful sharp, I have heard say; but Alison aint that
+sort.  Now, what do you mean to do to clear my granddaughter?"
+
+"I tell you what I'll do," said Shaw, after a pause.  "I like your
+granddaughter.  I am inclined to believe, in spite of appearances, that
+she is innocent.  I must confess that she acted very insolently to me
+this morning, and for the sake of the other shop people she must
+apologize; but if she will apologize I will have her back--there, I
+can't act fairer than that."
+
+"Nothing will make her step inside your shop, sir, until she is
+cleared."
+
+"Oh, well!" said Mr. Shaw, rising, "she must take the consequence.  She
+is a great fool, for she'll never get such a chance again.  Suspicion
+is strong against her.  I am willing to overlook everything, and to let
+the affair of the five pounds sink into oblivion.  Your granddaughter
+is useful to me, and, upon my word, I believe she is innocent.  If she
+does not come back, she will find it extremely difficult to get another
+situation."
+
+"Sir," said Mrs. Reed, "you don't know Alison.  Nothing will make her
+set her foot inside this shop until the real thief is found.  Are you
+going to find him or are you not?"
+
+"I will do my best, madam, and if that is your last word, perhaps you
+will have the goodness not to take up any more of my valuable time."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+Mrs. Reed left the shop, and went home as quickly as her small, active
+feet could carry her.  She was feeling quite brisked up by her
+interview with Shaw, and her indignation supplied her with strength.
+She got back to the model lodging in Sparrow Street, mounted to her own
+floor, and opened the door with a latch-key.  Alison was sitting by the
+window, busy over the needlework which Grannie would have done had she
+been at home.  Alison was but an indifferent worker, whereas Grannie
+was a very beautiful one.  Few people could do more lovely hand work
+than Mrs. Reed.  She was famous for her work, and got, as such things
+go, good prices for it.  The very best shops in the West End employed
+her.  She was seldom without a good job on hand.  She had invented a
+new pattern in feather-stitching which was greatly admired, and which
+she was secretly very proud of--it was an intricate pattern, and it
+made a very good show.  No other workwoman knew how to do it, and
+Grannie was very careful not to impart her secret to the trade.  This
+feather-stitching alone gave her a sort of monopoly, and she was too
+good a woman of business not to avail herself of it.  It was the
+feather-stitching which had mostly tried her poor hand and arm, and
+brought on the horrid pain which the doctor had called writers' cramp.
+
+"Some doctors are out-and-out fools," murmured the old woman to
+herself.  "He were a very nice spoke gentleman--tall and genteel, and
+he treated me like a lady, which any true man would; but when he said I
+had got writers' cramp in this hand, it must have been nonsense.  For
+there, I never write; ef I spell through a letter once in six months to
+my poor sister's only child in Australia, it's the very most that I can
+do.  Writers' cramp, indeed!  Well, it's a comfort to know that he must
+be wrong.  I wonder how Ally has got on with the work.  Poor dear!
+I'll have to do more of that feather-stitching than ever, now that Ally
+has lost her situation."
+
+Alison looked up and saw her grandmother standing near her.  She had,
+of course, been taught the feather-stitching.  Mrs. Reed had confided
+this important secret to her once in a time of serious illness.
+
+"For I may die, and it may go out of the fam'ly," she said.  "It was
+begun by my grandmother, who got the first notion of it in the sort of
+trail of the leaves.  My grandmother was a Simpson--most respectable
+folk--farmers of the best sort.  She had wonderful linen, as fine as
+silk.  She made it all herself, and then she hemmed it and marked it
+and feather-stitched it with them trailing leaves.  She taught the
+trail to my mother, who married Phipps, and mother had a turn for
+needlework, and she gave it that little twist and rise which makes it
+so wonderful pretty and neat; but 'twas I popped on the real finish,
+quilting it, so to speak, and making it the richest trimming, and the
+most dainty you could find.  You must learn it, Alison; it would be a
+sin and a shame for it to die with me.  It must stay in the fam'ly, and
+you must 'ave it on yer wedding linen, that you must."
+
+Grannie had taken great pains teaching Alison, and Alison had tried
+hard to learn, but, unlike the Phippses and the Simpsons, she had no
+real turn for fine needlework.  She learned the wonderful stitch, it is
+true, but only in a sort of fashion.
+
+Now, the secret of that stitch it is not for me to disclose.  It had to
+be done with a twist here, and a loop there, and a sudden clever
+bringing round of the thread from the left to the right at a critical
+moment; then followed a still more clever darting of the needle through
+a loop, which suddenly appeared just when it was least expected.  The
+feather-stitching involved many movements of the hand and arm, and
+certainly gave a splendid effect to the fine linen or cambric on which
+it was worked.  Grannie could do it almost with her eyes shut, but
+Alison, who thought she knew all about it, found when she began to
+practice that she had not taken the right loop nor the proper twist,
+and she quite forgot the clever under-movement which brought the thread
+from left to right, and made that sort of crinkled scroll which all the
+other workwomen in West London tried to imitate in vain.  Grannie was
+trimming some beautiful underlinen for a titled lady; it was made of
+the finest cambric, and the feather-stitching was to be a special
+feature.
+
+She stood now, looked down at her pretty grandchild, and saw that she
+had ruined the work.
+
+"Poor dear," muttered the old woman to herself, "she dint got the turn
+of it, or maybe her head is confused.  No wonder, I'm sure; for a
+cleverer nor neater girl than Alison don't live."
+
+"There, my love," she said, speaking aloud, "I've come back.  You can
+put away the work now."
+
+"Oh, Grannie!" said the girl, looking up with flushed cheeks, "have I
+done it right?  It looks wrong somehow; it aint a bit rich like what
+you do."
+
+"Dearie me," said the old woman, "as ef that mattered.  You pop it back
+into my drawer now."
+
+"But have I done any harm?"
+
+"Of course not, lovey.  Pop it into the drawer and come and make
+yourself smart for Jim."
+
+"For Jim?" said Alison, looking up with a glow on her cheeks, her eyes
+shining.  "You speak as if you had good news; has anything been
+discovered?"
+
+Grannie had made up her mind to cheer Alison by every means in her
+power.  She sat down now on the nearest chair, untied her
+bonnet-strings, and looked affectionately at the girl.
+
+"I have good news," she said; "yes, all things considered, I have."
+
+"Is the money found, grandmother?"
+
+"You couldn't expect it to be yet.  Of course, _she_ wot took it hid
+it--wot else can you expect?"
+
+"Oh, then nothing matters!" said Alison, her head drooping.
+
+"Dearie me, child, that's no way to take misfortin.  The whole thing
+from first to last was just a bit of bad luck, and luck's the queerest
+thing in life.  I have thought over luck all my long years, and am not
+far from seventy, thank the Lord for his goodness, and I can't
+understand it yet.  Luck's agen yer, and nothing you can do will make
+it for yer, jest for a spell.  Then, for no rhyme or reason, it 'll
+turn round, and it's for yer, and everything prospers as yer touches,
+and you're jest as fort'nate as you were t'other way.  With a young
+thing like you, Ally, young and pretty and genteel, luck aint never
+'ard; it soon turns, and it will with you.  No, the money's not found
+yet," continued the old woman, rising and taking off her bonnet and
+giving it a little shake; "but it's sure to be to-night or to-morrow,
+for I've got the promise of the master that he won't leave a stone
+unturned to find out the thief.  I did give him my mind, Alison.  I
+wish you could have heard me.  I let out on him.  I let him see what
+sort of breed I am'--a Phipps wot married a Reed."
+
+"Oh, as if that mattered!" groaned Alison.
+
+"Well, it did with him, love.  Breed allers tells.  You may be low-born
+and nothing will 'ide it--not all the dress and not all the, by way of,
+fine manners.  It's jest like veneer--it peels off at a minute's
+notice.  But breed's true to the core; it wears.  Alison, it wears to
+the end."
+
+"Well, Grannie," said Alison, who had often heard these remarks before,
+"what did Mr. Shaw really say?"
+
+"My love, he treated me werry respectful.  He told me the whole story,
+calm and quiet, and then he said that he was quite sure himself that
+you was innocent."
+
+"He didn't say that, really?"
+
+"I tell you he did, child; and wot's more, he offered you the place
+back again."
+
+It was Alison's turn now to rise to her feet.  She laughed hysterically.
+
+"And does he think I'll go," she said, "with this hanging over me?  No!
+I'd starve first.  If that's all, he has his answer.  I'll never go
+back to that shop till I'm cleared.  Oh, I don't know where your good
+news is," she continued; "everything seems very black and dreadful.  If
+it were not for----"  Her rosy lips trembled; she did not complete her
+sentence.
+
+"I could bear it," she said, in a broken voice, "if it were not
+for----"  Again she hesitated, rushed suddenly across the room, and
+locked herself into the little bedroom which she shared with one of her
+sisters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+Grannie pottered about and got the tea.  As she did so she shook her
+old head, and once a dim moisture came to her eyes.  Her hand ached so
+painfully that if she had been less brave she would have sat down and
+given herself up to the misery which it caused her.  But Grannie had
+never thought much of herself, and she was certainly not going to do so
+to-day when her darling was in such trouble.
+
+"Whatever I do, I mustn't let out that Ally failed in the
+feather-stitching," she said to herself.  "I'll unpick it to-night when
+she is in bed.  She has enough to bear without grieving her.  I do hope
+Jim will come in about supper time.  I should think he was safe to.  I
+wonder if I could rub a little of that liniment onto my 'and myself.
+It do burn so; to think that jest a little thing of this sort should
+make me mis'rible.  Talk of breed!  I don't suppose I'm much, after
+all, or I'd not fret about a trifle of this sort."
+
+The tea was laid on the table--the coarse brown loaf, the pat of
+butter, the huge jug of skim milk, and the teapot full of weak tea.
+The children all came in hungry from school.  Alison returned from her
+bedroom with red eyes.  She cut the bread into thick slices, put a
+scrape of butter on each slice, and helped her brothers and sisters.
+The meal was a homely one, but perfectly nourishing.  The children all
+looked fat and well cared for.  Grannie took great pride in their rosy
+faces, and in their plump, firm limbs.  She and Alison between them
+kept all the family together.  She made plenty of money with her
+beautiful needlework, and Alison put the eight shillings which she
+brought home every Saturday night from the shop into the common fund.
+She had her dinner at the shop, which was also a great help.  Dave was
+beginning to earn about half a crown a week, which kept him in shoes
+and added a very tiny trifle to the general purse; but Harry was still
+not only an expense, but an anxiety to the family.  The three younger
+children were, of course, all expense at present, but Grannie's
+feather-stitching and lovely work and Alison's help kept the little
+family well-off.  As the old woman watched them all to-night, she
+laughed softly under her breath at the stupid mistake the doctor had
+made.
+
+"Ef he had said anything but writers' cramp, I might 'a' been nervous,"
+she said to herself, "but writers' cramp aint possible to anyone as
+don't write.  I don't place much store by doctors after that stoopid
+mistake; no, that I don't."
+
+Alison's face was very pale.  She scarcely spoke during tea.  The
+children were surprised to see her at home both for dinner and tea, and
+began to question her.
+
+"Now, you shet up, you little curiosity boxes," said Grannie, in her
+brisk, rather aggressive voice.  "Ally is at home--well, because she
+is."
+
+"Oh, Grannie! what sort of answer is that?" cried Polly, the youngest
+girl.
+
+"It's the only one you'll get, Miss Pry," replied Grannie.
+
+The other children laughed, and began to call Polly "Miss Pry," and
+attention was completely diverted from Alison.
+
+After the tea-things had been washed and the children had settled down
+to their books and different occupations, there came a knock at the
+door, and Hardy entered.
+
+Alison was in her bedroom.
+
+"Set down, Mr. Hardy," said Grannie, if her cheerful voice.  "You've
+come to see Ally, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, if I may," answered the young man, an anxious expression on his
+face.
+
+"To be sure you may; who more welcome?  Children, run into my bedroom,
+dears.  I'll turn on the gas and you can study your books in there.
+Run now, and be quick about it."
+
+"It's so cold," said Polly.
+
+"Tut, tut, not another word; scatter, all of you."
+
+The children longed particularly to stay; they were very fond of Hardy,
+who generally brought them sweets.  Polly's quick eyes had seen a white
+parcel sticking out of his pocket.  It was horrid to have to go into
+Grannie's bedroom.  It was an icy-cold room; just, too, when the
+kitchen was most enticing.  They had to go, however, and Grannie shut
+the door behind them.
+
+"Poor things, it will be cold for them in there," said the young man.
+
+"Tut, tut," answered Grannie again, "you don't want 'em to be brought
+up soft and lazy and good for naught.  Now then, Jim, set down and make
+yourself at home."
+
+"How is she?" asked Hardy, speaking in a low voice, and raising his
+handsome eyes to the old lady's face.
+
+Grannie's eyes blazed in reply.
+
+"How do you expect her to be?" she answered.  "Publicly shamed as she
+were; I wonder you didn't take her part, Jim, that I do."
+
+"I felt stunned," replied Hardy; "it was all so sudden.  I tried to
+push forward and to speak, but I was prevented.  There was such an
+excitement, and Mr. Shaw was in a towering passion--there's no doubt of
+that.  I'm sorry she has left, though."
+
+"Well," said Grannie, "she's had the offer to take her place again if
+she likes."
+
+"Has she?  Then he doesn't believe her to be guilty?"
+
+"No; who would who knew her?"
+
+"Who would, indeed?" answered the young man, a glow of pride and
+pleasure o& his face.
+
+"I'll tell her you are here in a minute," said Grannie, "and then I'll
+leave you two the kitchen to yourselves.  But before I go away I jest
+want to say one thing--Alison won't go back."
+
+"Won't?"
+
+"No, nor would I let her.  Alison will stay here till she's cleared.
+You are in the shop, Jim, and it's your business to find the
+thief--that is, ef you love my girl, wot I take it you do."
+
+"With all my heart, that I do," he replied.
+
+"Then your work's cut out for you.  Now you may see her."
+
+Grannie stepped across the kitchen.  She opened Alison's door a quarter
+of an inch.
+
+"Jim's here, Ally," she said.  "I've a job of work in my bedroom, and
+the children are out of the way.  You two can have the kitchen to
+yourselves ef you want to talk."
+
+Alison's low reply was scarcely discernible.  Grannie went into her
+bedroom, clicking the door behind her.  A moment or two later Hardy
+heard Alison step lightly across her room.  She came out of it, crossed
+the kitchen, and approached his side.  Her face was perfectly white,
+her lips trembled with emotion.  She still wore her shop dress, but
+there was a disheveled sort of look about her which the young man had
+never noticed before.
+
+Her beautiful fair hair was rumpled and in disorder, her deep-blue eyes
+looked pathetic owing to the tears she had shed.  The young man's whole
+heart went out to her at a great bound.  How beautiful she was!  How
+unlike any other girl he had ever seen!  How much he loved her in her
+hour of trouble!
+
+"Oh, Alison," he said, speaking the first words that came to his lips,
+"I could die for you--there!"
+
+Alison burst into tears.  Jim put his arm round her; she did not
+repulse him.  He drew her close to him, and she laid her head on his
+shoulder.  He had never held her so close to him before; he had never
+yet kissed her; now he kissed her soft hair as it brushed against his
+cheek.
+
+"There, there," he said, after a moment or two, during which she sobbed
+in a sort of luxury of grief and happiness; "there, there, my darlin',
+I am between you and all the troubles of this hard world."
+
+"Oh, Jim, but I can't have it," she answered.
+
+She remembered herself in a moment, withdrew her head from his
+shoulder, pressed back his hands, which struggled to hold her, and
+seated herself on a low stool at the opposite side of the little stove.
+
+"It's all over, dear Jim," she said.  "I do love you, I don't deny it;
+but I must say 'no' to-night."
+
+"But why," said Hardy, "why should a nasty, spiteful bit of
+misadventure like what happened to-day divide you and me?  There is no
+sense in it, Alison."
+
+"Sense or no, we can't be engaged," replied Alison.  "I won't have it;
+I love you too well.  I'll never marry anybody while it's held over me
+that I'm a thief."
+
+"But, darlin', you are no more a thief than I am; you are jest the most
+beautiful and the best girl in all the world.  I'll never marry anybody
+ef I don't marry you, Ally.  Oh, I think it is cruel of you to turn me
+away jest because you happen to be the last person seen going to the
+till."
+
+"I'm sorry if I seem cruel, Jim," she replied, "but my mind is quite
+made up.  It's a week to-night since you asked me to be your wife.  I
+love yer, I don't pretend to deny it; I've loved yer for many a month,
+and my heart leaped with joy when you said you loved me, and of course
+I meant to say 'yes.'  But now everything is changed; I'm young, only
+seventeen, and whatever we do now means all our lives, Jim, yours and
+mine.  This morning I were so happy--yes, that I were; and I just
+longed for to-night to come, and I was fit to fly when I went to the
+shop, although there was a fog, and poor Grannie's hand was so painful
+that she had to go to see the doctor at the hospital; but then came the
+blow, and it changed everything, just everything."
+
+"I can't see it," interrupted Jim; "I can't see your meaning; it has
+not changed your love nor mine, and that's the only thing that seems to
+me of much moment.  You jest want me more than ever now, and I guess
+that if you loved me before, you love me better now, so why don't you
+say 'yes'?"
+
+"I can't," she replied; "I have thought it all over.  I was stunned at
+first, but for the last hour or two everything has been very plain to
+me.  I am innocent, Jim.  I no more took that note out of the till than
+you did; but it's gone, and I'm suspected.  I was accused of taking it,
+before the whole shop.  I'm branded, that's what I feel, and nothing
+can take away the brand, and the pain, and the soreness, except being
+cleared.  If I were to say 'yes' to you to-night, Jim, and let you love
+me, and kiss me, and by and by take me afore the parson, and make me
+your lawful wife--I--I wouldn't be the sort of girl you really love.
+The brand would be there, and the soreness, and the shame, and the
+dreadful words would keep ringing in my ears, 'You are a thief, you are
+a thief'--so I couldn't be a good wife to yer, Jim, for that sort of
+thing would wear me out, and I'd be sort of changed; and well as you
+love me now, it would come back to you that once the girl what was your
+wife was called a thief, so I'll never say 'yes'--never, until I'm
+cleared; and somehow I don't expect I ever will be cleared, for the one
+that did me this mischief must be very clever, and deep, and cunning.
+So it's 'good-by,' Jim dear, and you'd better think no more of me, for
+I'll never go back to the shop, and I'll never wed you until I'm
+cleared of this dark, dark deed that is put down to me."
+
+"Then I will clear you; I vow it," said Hardy.
+
+He rose to his feet; he looked very strong, and firm, and determined.
+
+"You don't suppose that I'll lose you for the sake of a five-pound
+note," he said.  "I'll clear you.  Grannie has put it on me, and now
+you put it on me more than ever.  It 'll be only a day or two most like
+that we'll be parted, sweetheart.  Only I wish you wouldn't stick to
+this, Ally.  Let me kiss you, and let me feel that you are my own dear
+love, and I'll work harder than ever to prove that you are innocent as
+the beautiful dawn that you are like.  There was no one ever so
+beautiful as you, like you."
+
+Alison smiled very faintly while Jim was speaking to her, but when he
+approached her and held out his arms, and tried to coax her to come
+into them, she drew back.
+
+"No," she said, "I'm a thief until I'm cleared, and you shan't kiss a
+thief, Jim Hardy, that you shan't."
+
+Her tears broke out afresh as she uttered these words; she flung
+herself on the little settle, and sobbed very bitterly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+Jim walked quickly down the street; the fog had now partly lifted, and
+a very faint breeze came and fanned his cheeks as, with great strides,
+he went in the direction of Bishopsgate Street.  He had lodgings in
+Bishopsgate Without--a tiny room at the top of a house, which he called
+his own, and which he kept beautifully neat, full of books and other
+possessions.  Hanging over his mantelpiece was a photograph of Alison.
+It did not do her justice, failing to reproduce her expression, giving
+no color to the charming, petulant face, and merely reproducing the
+fairly good features without putting any life into them.  When Hardy
+got home and turned on the gas in his little attic, he took the
+photograph down from its place and looked at it hungrily and greedily.
+He was a young giant in his way, strong and muscular and good-looking.
+His dark eyes seemed to gather fire as he looked at Alison's picture;
+his lips, always strong and determined, became obstinate in their
+outline; he clenched one of his strong hands, then put the photograph
+slowly and carefully back in its place.
+
+"I have made a vow," he said to himself.  "I don't remember ever making
+a vow before; I'll keep this vow, so help me Heaven!--I have got to
+clear my girl; yes, when all is said and done, she is my girl.  I'll
+set this thing right before a week is out.  Now let me put on my
+considering cap--let me try to think of this matter as if I were a
+detective.  By the way, there's that friend of mine, Sampson, who is in
+the detective force; I've a good mind to run round to him and ask his
+advice.  There's treachery somewhere, and he might give me a wrinkle or
+two."
+
+Jim put on his cap, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and went
+out once more.  As he was running downstairs he met his landlady--he
+was a favorite with her.  She accosted him with a civil word, and an
+inquiry if he did not want some supper.
+
+"No, thanks," he replied, "I will sup out to-night--good-night, Mrs.
+Higgins."
+
+She nodded and smiled.
+
+"I wonder what's up with him," she sad to herself--"how white he do
+look! and his eyes sorter dazed--he's a right good fellow, and I wish I
+had more like him in the house."
+
+Jim meanwhile was marching quickly in the direction of Sampson's
+lodgings.  He had been brought up in the country, and had never seen
+London until he was seventeen years of age.  His great frame and
+athletic limbs were all country-bred; he could never lose that
+knowledge which had come to him in his boyhood--the knowledge of
+climbing and rowing, of fishing and swimming--the power to use all his
+limbs.  This power had made him big and strong, and London ways and
+London life could not greatly affect him.  He was very clever and very
+steady, and was rising to a good position in the shop.  His thoughts
+were far away now from his own affairs; they were absorbed with
+Alison--with that dreadful shame which surrounded her, and with the vow
+he had made to set his dear love straight.
+
+"If there's treachery, Sampson and me will find it out between us," he
+said to himself.
+
+He was fortunate in finding Sampson in, and very soon unfolded his
+errand.
+
+Sampson was as London-bred as Jim was the reverse.  He was a little
+fellow, with a face like a ferret; he had sharp-peaked features, a pale
+skin with many freckles, very small, keen blue eyes, rather closely set
+together, red hair, which he wore short and stuck up straight all over
+his small head.  His face was clean-shaven, and he had a very alert
+look.  Sampson did not live in an attic--he had a neat, well-furnished
+room, on the third floor.  His room did not show the taste Jim's
+did--it was largely garnished with colored photographs of handsome
+young women, and some of the most celebrated cricketers and boxers of
+the day.  His mantelpiece was covered with pipes and one or two
+policemen's whistles.  He was indulging in a pipe when Jim was
+announced.  He welcomed his friend cordially, asked him to be seated,
+listened to his tale, and then sat silent, thinking very carefully over
+the mystery.
+
+"Well," said Jim, "why don't you speak?  I have got to clear this thing
+in a couple of days.  My girl will have nothing to do with me until she
+is cleared of this shame, so you see how things stand, Sampson.  I have
+got a bit of money put by, and I'll spend it clearing her if you think
+you can help me."
+
+"No, no, 'taint my line," said Sampson, "and, besides, I wouldn't take
+your money, old chap; you are welcome to my advice, but I should only
+rouse suspicion if I were to appear in the matter--still, we can talk
+the thing well over.  It seems to me the point is this, who was the
+person who got to the till while Miss Reed's back was turned?"
+
+"They swear that no one could get to it," replied Jim.  "The till is,
+of course, in the master's desk, and Alison was close to it--she
+scarcely left that part of the shop--at any rate, only to move a foot
+or two away, before the customer arrived whom she was to serve.  She
+served her customer, and went to ask Mr. Shaw for change.  He told her
+that the key was in the till, and that she might help herself.  She
+took the change out and then locked the till.  Alison is anxious enough
+to be cleared, you may be quite sure, but she can't see herself how it
+was possible that anyone else could have got to the till from the
+moment the five-pound note was put into it until she herself took
+change out and then locked it."
+
+"Yes, of course," said Sampson, "so she thinks.  Now, one of three
+things is plain.  You'll forgive me if I speak right out quite plainly,
+my boy?"
+
+"Of course," answered Hardy, with a faint smile.  "You were always
+famous for telling your mind when you liked, Sampson."
+
+"And for keeping it back when I liked," retorted Sampson.  "I wouldn't
+be much of a detective if I didn't do that--still, this is my view of
+the case in a nutshell.  One of three things must have happened--that
+is, granted that Mr. Shaw did put the five-pound note into the till."
+
+"Why, of course he did," said Jim, in surprise.
+
+"We must grant that," interrupted Sampson, "or we have nothing to go
+upon.  Granted that he put the money into the till, one of three things
+happened.  Miss Reed was tempted and helped herself to the five-pound
+note----"
+
+Jim sprang to his feet, he clenched his big fist, and made a step
+toward Sampson, who sat, slight, small, and unprovoked, in his chair.
+
+"Sit down, won't you?" he said.
+
+"Only I want to strangle you and kick you out of the room," said Jim.
+
+"Well, I beg of you to refrain.  I told you that I was a blunt body.  I
+don't think for a moment that Miss Reed took the money.  In that case,
+one of my remaining two suppositions must have happened; either the
+note is still in the drawer, pushed out of sight, or under some loose
+change--hidden, the Lord knows where--or somebody did get to the till
+without Miss Reed seeing that person.  My belief, and my knowledge of
+human nature, induce me to think that the third idea is the right one."
+
+"But no one could," began Jim.
+
+"You can't say that no one could.  Lor' bless you, the artful devices
+of some folks is past counting.  Now tell me, what sort are the other
+girls in the shop?"
+
+"Oh, well enough--a very respectable lot."
+
+"You don't think any of them have a spite against your young woman?"
+
+"Well, no, I don't suppose they have--that is----"
+
+"Ah, you hesitate--that means that one of them has.  Now speak out,
+Jim.  All depends on your being candid."
+
+"Oh, yes!  I'll be candid enough," said Jim; "I never saw anything
+wrong with the young women in the shop.  Of course, except Alison, I
+have not had much to do with any of them, but Ally once said to me that
+a girl called Louisa Clay had, she thought, a spite agen her.  I can't
+imagine why, I'm sure."
+
+"This is interesting," said Sampson.  "Mark my words, Louisa Clay is at
+the bottom of the business.  Now tell me, what sort is she?"
+
+"A handsome, well-mannered girl," replied Jim.  "She's about twenty
+years of age, I should say, with a dash of the gypsy in her, for she
+has coal-black hair and flashing eyes."
+
+"Oh, you seem to have studied her face a bit."
+
+"Well, she is not the sort that you could pass," said Jim, coloring;
+"besides, she wouldn't stand it."
+
+"A jealous sort, would you say?"
+
+"How can I tell?"
+
+"Yes you can, Jim Hardy.  I see the end of this trouble, blest ef I
+don't.  How long has Alison been in the shop?"
+
+"Six months."
+
+"How long have you been there?"
+
+"Oh, several years!  I was apprentice first, and then I rose step by
+step.  I have been with Shaw a matter of six years."
+
+"And how long has Louisa Clay been there?"
+
+"I can't exactly remember, but I should say a year and a half."
+
+Sampson now rose to his feet.
+
+"There we are," he said.  "You are a good-looking chap, Jim; you are
+taller than us London fellows, and you've got a pleasing way with you;
+you were civil to Louisa before Alison came.  Come now, the truth."
+
+"Well, she talked to me now and then," answered the young fellow,
+coloring again.
+
+"Ah, I guess she did, and you talked to her; in fact, you kept company
+with her, or as good."
+
+"No, that I didn't."
+
+"Well, she thought you did, or hoped you would; so it all comes to the
+same.  Then Alison arrived, and you gave Louisa up.  Isn't that so?"
+
+"I never thought about Louisa one way or the other, I assure you,
+Sampson.  Ally and I were friends from the first.  I hadn't known her a
+fortnight before I loved her more than all the rest of the world.  I
+have been courting her ever since.  I never gave a thought to another
+woman."
+
+"Bless me! what an innocent young giant you are; but another woman gave
+you a thought, my hearty, and of course she was jealous of Miss Reed,
+and if she didn't want the money for reasons of her own, she was very
+glad to put a spoke in her wheel."
+
+"Oh, come now, it isn't right to charge a girl like that," said Hardy.
+
+"Right or wrong, I believe I've hit the nail on the head.  Anyhow,
+that's the track for us to work.  Where does this girl Clay live?"
+
+"With her father and mother in Shoreditch.  He's a pawnbroker, and by
+no means badly off."
+
+"You seem to have gone to their house."
+
+"A few times on Sunday evenings.  Louisa asked me."
+
+"Have you gone lately?"
+
+"Not to say very lately."
+
+"Well, what do you say to you and me strolling round there this
+evening?"
+
+"This evening!" cried Jim.  "Oh, come now," he added, "I haven't the
+heart; that I haven't."
+
+"You have no spunk in you.  I thought you wanted to clear your girl."
+
+"Oh, if you put it in that way, Sampson, of course I'll do anything;
+but I can't see your meaning.  I do want, God knows, to clear Alison,
+but I don't wish to drag another girl into it."
+
+"You shan't; that will be my business.  After all, I see I must take
+this thing up; you are not the fellow for it.  The detective line, Jim,
+means walking on eggs without breaking 'em.  You'd smash every egg in
+the farmyard.  The detective line means guile; it means a dash of the
+knowing at every step.  You are as innocent as a babe, and you haven't
+the guile of an unfledged chicken.  You leave this matter with me.  I
+begin to think I'd like to see Miss Clay.  I admire that handsome,
+dashing sort of girl--yes, that I do.  All I want you to do, Jim, is to
+introduce me to the young lady.  If her father is a pawnbroker he must
+have a bit of money to give her, and a gel with a fat purse is just my
+style.  You come along to the Clays and give me a footing in the house,
+and that's all I ask."
+
+Jim hesitated.
+
+"I don't like it," he said.
+
+"Don't like it," repeated Sampson, mimicking his manner.  "I wouldn't
+give much for that vow of yours, young man.  Why, you are a soft Sawny.
+You want to clear your own girl?"
+
+"That I do, God knows."
+
+"Then introduce me to Miss Clay."
+
+"Oh, Sampson, I hope I'm doing right."
+
+"Fiddlesticks with your right.  I tell you this is my affair.  Come
+along now, or it will be too late."
+
+Sampson took down his hat from the wall, and Jim, somewhat unwillingly,
+followed him out of the room and downstairs.  He did not like the job,
+and began to wish he had never consulted Sampson.  But the detective's
+cheery and pleasant talk very soon raised his spirits, and by the time
+the two young men had reached the sign of the Three Balls, Jim had
+persuaded himself that he was acting in a very manly manner, and that
+dear little Alison would soon be his promised wife.
+
+Compared to Jim Hardy and George Sampson the Clays were quite wealthy
+folk.  Louisa need not have gone into a shop at all unless she so
+pleased, but she was a vivacious young person, who preferred having a
+purse of her own to being dependent on her father.  She liked to show
+herself off, and had the sense to see that she looked better in her
+neat black alpaca with its simple trimmings than in any of her
+beflowered and bespangled home dresses.  The Clays were having friends
+to supper this special evening, and the mirth was fast and hilarious
+when Hardy and Sampson entered the room.  Hardy had never seen Louisa
+before in her evening dress.  It gave her a blooming and buxom
+appearance.  The dress was of a flaming red color, slightly open at the
+neck, and with elbow sleeves.  Louisa started and colored when she saw
+Jim.  Her big eyes seemed to flash, and Sampson noticed that she gave
+him a bold, admiring glance.
+
+"She is at the bottom of this, if ever gel was," muttered the detective
+to himself.
+
+He asked Hardy to introduce him; and presently, using that tact for
+which he was famous, induced Louisa to accompany him to a sofa at a
+little distance, where they sat together laughing and chatting, and
+Hardy was relieved to find that he need not pay this bold-looking girl
+any attention.
+
+The supper was over before the young men arrived, but the atmosphere of
+the room was close with a mixture of tobacco and spirits.  Several very
+fat and loudly dressed old ladies were talking to a still fatter and
+more loudly dressed old lady at the head of the room.  This was the
+hostess.  Clay, the pawnbroker, a little man with a deeply wrinkled
+face and shrewd, beadlike, black eyes, was darting in and out amongst
+his friends, laughing loudly, cracking jokes, and making himself
+generally facetious and agreeable.  He clapped Jim on the shoulders,
+assured him that he was delighted to see him, and dragged him up to the
+sofa, where Louisa and Sampson were having a very open flirtation.
+
+"My gel will be right glad to see yer," he said to Jim, with a broad
+wink.  "Eh, Louisa, who have I brought, eh?  You are sure to give Hardy
+a welcome, aint you, lass?"
+
+"If he'll take it, of course," she replied.
+
+She jumped up and gave Jim a second glance of unequivocal admiration.
+
+"It was good of you to come," she said, in a low tone.  "I thought that
+you were a bit troubled to-day; but maybe that is why you have come, to
+be cheered up."
+
+Jim flushed and felt uncomfortable; he could not tell Louisa his real
+motive; he felt ashamed of himself, and longed to be out of this noisy
+scene.
+
+"And it isn't that I don't pity you," she continued.  "Of course I can
+see that you are cut up; who would have thought that a gel like
+Alison----"
+
+Jim put up his big hand.
+
+"Not a word," he said; "I won't discuss it--I can't!"
+
+"You are awful cut up, old fellow, aint you?" said Louisa, moving a
+step or two out of the crowd and motioning him to a corner.  "Look
+here," she continued, "there's a quiet nook here, just under the
+stairs; let us stand here for a minute, I want to talk to yer.  I know
+you are cut up, and I am sorry--yes, that I am."
+
+"I can't discuss it with you, Miss Clay," said Jim.
+
+"Oh, aint it stiff of you to call me Miss Clay!" she retorted; "when
+you know me so well."
+
+"Perhaps it is," he answered, too good-natured to be rude to her.  "I
+will call you Louisa if you like; but Louisa or Miss Clay, whichever
+you are, I can't talk of this matter."
+
+Louisa's great black eyes seemed to blaze like living fires.  She gave
+Jim a long glance.
+
+"Just you tell me one thing," she said, almost in a whisper.
+
+"What is that?" he asked, surprised at her change of tone.
+
+"Are you going to marry Alison Reed, Jim Hardy?"
+
+"You have no right to ask me the question," he replied, "but as you
+have, I will for once answer you frankly.  If I don't marry Alison
+Reed, no other girl shall be my wife."
+
+"Is that a vow?" she asked.
+
+"You can take it as such, if you like," he said.
+
+"I wouldn't make it," she replied.  "No man can tell how he will
+change."
+
+"I'll never change," he replied.  "I think I'll say 'good-night' now."
+
+"Oh, dear! you aint going?  Well, you shan't go until I have had my
+say.  I just wanted to know the truth; now I know it.  Look here, Jim;
+I am your friend, and I am Alison Reed's friend.  There is nothing I
+wouldn't do for either of you.  Alison must be cleared of the shameful
+thing she was accused of in the shop to-day."
+
+"She will be cleared," said Jim; "that is my business.  Good-night,
+Louisa; I must go home."
+
+"One minute first.  I'll help you to clear Miss Reed.  Will you sit
+next me at dinner to-morrow?"
+
+"That is as you like," replied Jim.
+
+"Please do," she added; "I'll have made a plan by then.  Yes, Alison
+must be cleared.  It seems to me that it is more a woman's work than a
+man's."
+
+"No, it is my work," said Jim.  "But I'll sit next to you with
+pleasure; it is nothing to me one way or other."
+
+Louisa's eyes drooped; an angry color flooded her face.
+
+Jim held out his hand; she gave hers: the next minute the two young men
+were again in the street.
+
+"Well," said Sampson, "we have done good business, have we not?"
+
+"I can't see it," replied Jim.  "Louisa is innocent.  I don't like her,
+but she has had no more to do with that affair than I have had; so
+there."
+
+"Louisa Clay is guilty," replied Sampson.  "I may not be able to prove
+it either to-day or to-morrow, but I will prove it before long.  You
+leave this matter in my hands, Jim."
+
+"I hate the whole thing," said Jim; "it seems awfully hard to drag
+another girl into it."
+
+"Well, I don't believe in your sort of love," sneered Sampson; "but
+mark my words: Louisa is the one what took that money.  I have got a
+footing in the house now, and I can work the thing and prove that I am
+right in my own way."
+
+"I don't believe a word of it," said Jim.  "Don't drag me into it any
+further, Sampson, whatever you do."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+Soon after the departure of the two young men, the rest of the guests
+left the Clays' house.  There was no special run on the pawnshop that
+night.  Saturday night was the real night for business; then work went
+on until far into the small hours of the morning, and Louisa was
+obliged to turn to and help her father, but to-night there was nothing
+to prevent her going to bed.  She lit her candle in the hall, and
+turned to say "good-night" to her parents.
+
+"That's a likely young man wot came here to-night," said the mother.
+
+"What young man?" asked Louisa, her eyes flashing.
+
+"Why, Mr. Sampson; they say he's right well off.  Don't you know who he
+is, Loo?"
+
+"No, that I don't," answered Louisa.  "I never set eyes on him before.
+I thought he was just a friend of Jim Hardy's.  I thought it was Jim
+you spoke of, mother, when you mentioned a likely young man."
+
+"Oh, Jim! he's well enough," said Mrs. Clay.  "I don't go for to deny
+that 'e's handsome to look at, but my thought is this, 'andsome is as
+'andsome does.  Now, that young man Sampson, as you call him, will make
+his fortin' some fine day.  He's in the private detective line, and
+your father says there aint a sharper man in the trade.  A sharp
+detective makes his fortin' in these days, no doubt on that p'int."
+
+Louisa's face slightly lost its color; a puzzled expression, an almost
+frightened look, crept into her eyes.
+
+"So George Sampson is a detective," she said slowly; "a detective, and
+he is a friend of Jim's.  I wonder why he came here?"
+
+"Why he come 'ere!" said the old woman.  "Why do any young men come
+'ere?  Oh, we needn't say why; but we know.  Good-night, child,
+good-night."
+
+"Good-night, mother," said the daughter.
+
+She went upstairs to her own good-sized bedroom, just over the
+pawnshop.  She occupied the best bedroom in the house.  She set her
+candle on her chest of drawers now, and sat down where she could see
+her handsome, striking-looking figure in the looking-glass.  There was
+a long glass in the door of her wardrobe, and there she could see her
+reflection from head to foot.  The red dress suited her well; it
+accentuated the carmine in her cheeks, and brought out the brilliancy
+of her eyes.  She pushed back her mass of black hair from her low brow,
+and gazed hard at her own image.
+
+"Yes," she said to herself, "I am handsome.  Ef I were a lady I'd be a
+queen.  I'm handsome enough for anythink.  But what do it matter!  Good
+Lor', what do _anythink_ matter when you can't get what you are
+breaking your heart for!  I'd give all the world for Jim, and Jim don't
+care nothink for me."
+
+She sighed heavily.  Presently she drew herself upright, pushed her
+chair back so that she could no longer see her image in the glass,
+placed her two elbows on the table, pressed her cheeks down on her open
+palms, and thought hard.
+
+"Why did that man, George Sampson, come here to-night?" she said to
+herself.  "Did Jim bring him knowing that he is a detective; did he
+bring him because he suspects me?  Oh, he couldn't suspect me; Jim aint
+that mean sort.  Still, I don't like Sampson; I don't like his coming
+'ere; I don't like the way he fixes me with his ferret eyes.  Jim is
+mad about Alison.  He can't suspect me, of course; but he is mad about
+it all.  He is half broken-hearted, and he thinks less of me than ever.
+Oh, Jim, Jim! and I do love you so terrible bad.  Why don't you love me
+even a little bit back again?  I'd be good ef you loved me; I know I'd
+be good.  What is there in Alison Reed for you nearly to die for her?
+She aint got my looks, she aint got my eyes, she aint got my bit of
+money.  I'm handsome, and I know it, and I'll have a tidy lot of money
+when I'm married, for father tells me so.  What is Alison compared to
+me?  Oh, nothing, nothing at all!  just a mealy-faced, white-cheeked
+slip of a girl.  But somehow or other he loves her, and he don't love
+me a bit; I'd do anything under the sun to win him.  Why to-day, to-day
+I did a _crime_, and 'twas for him, 'twas to win him; and, after all, I
+failed.  Oh, yes, I saw it to-night, I failed horribly."
+
+Louisa pressed her hands to her aching eyes; tears rose and smarted her
+eyelids; they rolled down her cheeks.
+
+"I'm fit to kill myself!" she cried.  "I did a crime for Jim, and I
+dragged a girl into it, and I failed.  Yes, I'll be straight with
+myself, I did it for him.  Oh, God knows what I've suffered lately, the
+mad fire and the pain that has been eating me here," she pressed her
+hand to her breast; "and then to-day I was passing the desk and I saw
+the note, not in the till, but lying on the floor, and no one saw me,
+and it flashed on me that perhaps Alison would be accused, and anyhow
+that the money would come in handy.  Shaw thought he put the note into
+the till, but he never did.  It fell on the floor, and 'twas open, and
+I picked it up.  I have it now; no one saw me, for I did it all like a
+flash.  The whole temptation come to me like a flash, and I took the
+money in a twinkling.  And now Alison is accused, and I am the real
+thief.  I did it--yes, I know why I did it: to turn Jim agen Alison, so
+that I might have a chance to win him for myself.  Yes, I have got the
+money.  I'll jest have a look at it now."
+
+Louisa rose as she spoke; she took a key from her pocket, opened a
+small drawer in her wardrobe, and extracted from an old-fashioned purse
+a crumpled five-pound note.  She stared at this innocent piece of paper
+with big, wide-open black eyes.
+
+"I wish I'd never touched it," she said, speaking her thoughts out
+loud.  "But of course Jim couldn't suspect me.  Not a soul saw me when
+I jest stooped and put the paper in my pocket.  No, not a living soul
+saw me.  Shaw had gone away, and Alison was serving a customer, and I
+did it like a flash.  I had a fine time when they accused Alison, and
+she turned first white and then red; but I didn't like it when I saw
+Jim shiver.  Why did he take that vow that he would marry nobody but
+her?  See ef I don't make him break it!  I haven't got my looks for
+nothink, and I don't love, as I love Jim, for nothink.  Yes; I'll win
+him yet--I have made up my mind.  I think I know a way of blinding that
+detective's eyes.  I'll jest let him think that I like him--that I'm
+losing my heart to him.  _That 'll_ fetch him!  He aint married; I know
+he aint, from the way he spoke.  I can soon turn a feller like that
+round my little finger.  Trust _me_ to blind his eyes.  As to Jim! oh,
+Jim, you _can't_ guess wot I done; it aint in you to think meanly of a
+gel.  Why, Jim, I could even be _good_ for a man like you; but there!
+now that I have done this thing I can't be good, so there is nothink
+for me but to go on being as bad as possible; only some day--some day,
+if I win yer, perhaps I'll tell yer all.  No, no; what am I saying?  Of
+course you must never know.  You'd hate me if I were fifty times yer
+wife, ef yer knew the bitter, bitter truth.  Alison is nothing at all
+to me; I don't care whether she breaks her heart or not, but I do care
+about Jim.  It is Jim I want.  I'd make him a right good wife, for I
+love him so well--yes, I will get him yet--I vow it; and perhaps my
+vow, being a woman's, may be stronger than his."
+
+Louisa undressed slowly and got into bed.  Her conscience was too hard
+to trouble her; but the thought of Jim and his despair stood for some
+time between her and sleep.  She was tired out, for the day had been
+full of excitement, but it was quite into the small hours before her
+tired eyes were closed in heavy slumber.
+
+Not far away, in a small flat in Sparrow Street, another girl slept
+also.  This girl had cried herself to sleep; the tears were even still
+wet upon her eyelashes.  Grannie had come into the room and looked at
+Alison.  Alison and Polly slept together in the tiniest little offshoot
+of the kitchen--it was more a sort of lean-to than a room; the roof
+sloped so much that by the window, and where the little dressing-table
+stood, only a very small person could keep upright.  Grannie belonged
+to the very small order of women.  She always held herself upright as a
+dart, and though it was late now, she did not show any signs of fatigue
+as she stood with a shaded candle looking down at the sleeping girl.
+Alison's face was very pale; once or twice she sighed heavily.  As
+Grannie watched her she raised her arm, pushed back her hair, which lay
+against her cheek, turned round, sighed more deeply than ever, and then
+sank again into unbroken slumber.
+
+"She's dreaming of it all," thought the old woman.  "I wonder if Jim,
+bless him, will clear her.  I know he'll do his best.  I believe he's a
+good lad.  I wish Alison would get engaged to him right away.  Jim's
+doing well in the shop, and they might be married and--dear, dear, I
+_wish_ my hand didn't ache so bad.  Well, there's one good thing about
+it anyway--I needn't waste time in bed, for sleep one wink with this
+sort of burning pain I couldn't, so I may jest as well set up and put
+that feather-stitching straight.  It's certain true that there aint a
+single thing in the world what hasn't some good p'int about it, and
+here is the good p'int in this pain of mine: I needn't waste the hours
+of darkness laying and doing nothink in bed."
+
+Grannie stole out of the room as softly as she had entered.  She shut
+the door behind her without making the least sound; she then lit a
+little lamp, which was much cheaper than gas, saw that it burned trim
+and bright, and set it on the center-table in the kitchen.  The night
+was bitterly cold; the fog had been followed by a heavy frost.  Grannie
+could hear the sharp ringing sound of some horses' feet as they passed
+by, carrying their burdens to the different markets.  It was long past
+twelve o'clock.  The little kitchen was warm, for the stove had burned
+merrily all day.  Grannie opened the door of the stove now and looked
+in.
+
+"Shall I, or shall I not, put on an extry shovelful of coals?" she said
+to herself; "an extry shovelful will keep the heat in all night; I have
+a mind to, for I do perish awful when the heat goes out of the kitchen;
+but there, it would be sinful waste, for coals are hard to get.  Ef
+that doctor were right, and it were really writers' cramp, I mightn't
+be able to earn any more money to buy coals; but of course he aint
+right; how silly of me to be afraid of what's impossible!  Yes, I'll
+put on the coals.  Thank the good Lord, this feather-stitching means a
+real good income to us; and now that Ally can't bring in her eight
+shillings a week, I must work extry hard, but it's false savin' to
+perish of cold when you have it in you to earn good money, so here
+goes."
+
+Grannie filled a very tiny shovel, flung the precious coals into the
+opening of the stove, shut it up again, and, taking the cambric from
+the cupboard in the wall, sat down with needle and thread just where
+the full light of the lamp could best fall on her work.  Her right hand
+ached and ached--it not only ached, but burned; the pain seemed to go
+up her arm; it sometimes gave her a sort of sick feeling.
+
+"Of course it's rheumatis," she said to herself.  "Well now, what a
+silly I am!  Why don't I try the liniment?  There, I'll rub some on
+afore I begin to work."
+
+She took the bottle from the mantelpiece, opened it, and poured a
+little of the mixture into the palm of her left hand.  The liniment was
+hot and comforting; it smarted a little, and relieved the dull inside
+pain.  Grannie found herself able to move her thumb and forefinger
+without much difficulty.
+
+"There!" she said; "it's stiffening of the j'ints I'm getting.  This
+liniment is fine stuff.  I must be very careful of it, though; why, I'm
+a sight better already.  Now then, first to wash my 'ands, and then to
+unpick the feather-stitching poor Ally did to-day.  Poor darlin', she
+couldn't be expected to do it proper, but I'll soon set it right."
+
+Mrs. Reed poured some warm water from the tap into the basin beneath,
+washed her old hands very carefully, dried them well, and sat down in
+quite a cheerful mood in her warm, snug, bright little kitchen to
+unpick Alison's work.  The liniment had really eased the pain.  She was
+able to grasp without any discomfort the very finely pointed scissors
+she was obliged to use, and after an hour and a half of intricate
+labor, during which she strained her old eyes in order to avoid cutting
+the delicate cambric, she had at last undone the mischief which Alison
+had caused that day.
+
+"Now then, here we are, as straight as possible," she said aloud, in
+her cheery way.  "It's wonderful how fresh I do feel, and this hand's a
+sight better.  I declare it's a sort of Providence that the old don't
+want much sleep--why, the church clock has gone two, and I aint a bit
+drowsy.  I know what I'll do, I'll work till five, that's three hours;
+then I'll go to bed till seven.  My hand's so comfortable that I'm sure
+to sleep like a top, and seven is time enough for me to rise.  Two
+hours aint such a bad lot of sleep for a woman of my years.  Let's see,
+I'm sixty-eight.  In one sense sixty-eight is old, in another sense
+it's young.  You slack down at sixty-eight; you don't have such a draw
+on your system, the fire inside you don't seem to require such poking
+up and feeding.  When you get real old, seventy-eight or eighty, then
+you want a deal of cosseting; but sixty-eight is young in one sense of
+the word.  This is the slack time--this is the time when you live real
+cheap.  What a deal of mercies I have, to be sure; and them beautiful
+grandchildren, so fat and hearty, and Alison and me to keep the house
+so snug, and tight, and neat, and not a debt in the world.  Now, then,
+I expect I'll get a lot of work through in these three hours.  I can
+set up for the next few nights, till Ally gets her place back again,
+and make up all the difference, and more, that her eight shillings a
+week brings in.  Oh, thank the Lord, it's wonderful fortinit that I've
+come to the easy time of life.  If I were younger now, I must have my
+sleep; but at sixty-eight you, so to speak, slacks down your fire, and
+_werry_ little keeps it goin'."
+
+As Grannie thought these last vigorous and contented thoughts, she
+pulled the lamp nearer, seized her needle and thread, and commenced her
+feather-stitching.  For the first quarter of an hour or twenty minutes
+the work went well--the mysterious twists, and turns, and darts, and
+loops were all made with fidelity and exactitude--the lovely crinkled
+ornament stood out boldly on the delicate cambric.  Grannie looked at
+her work with intense pride and happiness.
+
+"It's a fortin'--I do wish that gel would learn it.  Why, ef the two of
+us were at it, she'd make a sight more than she do in the shop.  I
+declare I'll give her a lesson to-morrow----  Oh, my God! what's that?
+Oh, my God, help me!"
+
+The needle fell through her powerless fingers; the finger and thumb
+were drawn apart, as though they had not the power to get together
+again.  Grannie gazed at her right hand in a sort of panic.
+
+"There; it has happened once or twice afore," she said to
+herself--"that dreadful prick and stab, and then all the power goin'
+sudden-like--of course it's rheumatis--there, I've no cause to be
+frightened; it's passing off; only it do make me sick and faint.  I'll
+have a cup of tea and then another rub of the liniment."
+
+The great agony frightened her very much; it took some of her high
+spirits away.  She rose slowly, and made her tea, drank it off scalding
+hot, and then rubbed some more liniment on the hand.  It was not quite
+so comforting nor quite so warming this time as it was on the former
+occasion.  She washed her hands again, and set to work.
+
+"Oh, good Lord, give me strength!" she murmured, as she seized her
+needle and thread.  "Think of all the children, Lord, and the little
+ones so fat and well fed; remember me, good Lord, and take the
+rheumatis away, _ef_ it's your good will."
+
+She took up her needle with renewed courage, and once more began to
+perform those curious movements of wrist and hand which were necessary
+to produce the feather-stitching.  In ten minutes the pain returned,
+the powerless finger and thumb refused to grasp the needle.  Large
+drops of sweat stood out now on Grannie's forehead.
+
+"Wot do it mean?" she said to herself.  "I never heerd tell of
+rheumatis like this, and for certain it aint writers' cramp, for I
+never write.  Oh, what an awful sort of thing writing is, when a letter
+once in six months knocks you over in this way.  Dear, dear, I'm
+a-shaking, but I 'a' done a nice little bit, and it's past three
+o'clock.  I'll go to bed.  The doctor spoke a deal about rest; I didn't
+mind him much.  He was all wrong about the pain, but perhaps he were
+right about the rest, so I'll go straight to bed."
+
+Grannie carefully slacked down the fire, put out the lamp, and stole
+into the little bedroom which she shared with the two younger children.
+Harry and David were already asleep in the lean-to at the other side of
+the kitchen, the opposite room to Alison's.  The well-fed children in
+Grannie's bed breathed softly in their happy slumbers; the little old
+woman got in between them and lay down icy cold, and trembling a good
+deal.  The children slept on, but the little woman lay awake with her
+wide-open eyes staring straight into the darkness, and the dreadful
+pain in hand and arm banishing all possibility of slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+In the morning Grannie got up as usual.  She was very white and shaky,
+but she had no intention of complaining.  The pain from which she was
+suffering had somewhat abated, but the poor hand and arm felt tired and
+very feeble.  She longed for the comfort of a sling, but decided not to
+wear one; the children would all notice it and pass remarks, and
+Grannie could not bear to be commented upon.  She did not want to add
+trouble to trouble just now.  She resolved to forget herself in
+thoughts of Alison and the others.  She was early in the kitchen, but
+to her relief and pleasure found David there before her.  Next to
+Alison, David was Grannie's favorite.  He was thoughtful and
+considerate.  He was a great big manly fellow, but there was also a
+very sweet feminine element in him; he could be domestic without being
+in the least girlish.  He was devoted to Grannie, and often, tired as
+he was when he went to bed, got up early in the morning to save her
+work.  He had turned on the gas, and the first thing he noticed now,
+when she came in, was her worn, puckered little face.
+
+"Why, Grannie, you are out of sorts," he said.  "Why did you get up so
+early?  Surely Ally and me can manage the bit of work.  But, I say, you
+are all of a tremble.  Set down, and I'll get ye a cup of tea in a
+minute."
+
+"No, Dave, no!" said the old woman, "'twill soon pass--'twill soon
+pass; the rheumatis in my hand and arm has been bothering me all night,
+and it makes me a bit shaky; but 'twill soon pass, Dave.  We mustn't
+waste the tea, you know, lad; and I won't have a cup--no, I won't."
+
+"Well, set there and rest," said the young man.  "Thank goodness, I
+aint ashamed to work, and I'm real proud to put the kitchen straight
+and tidy.  See how bright the fire is already; you warm your toes,
+Grannie, and you'll soon be better."
+
+"So I will, to be sure," said Mrs. Reed, rubbing her hands and sinking
+into the chair which David had brought forward.
+
+She gazed into the cheery flames, with her own bright-blue eyes, clear
+and steady.  Then she looked straight up at David, who was in the act
+of filling the kettle and placing it on the top of the stove.
+
+"David," she said, "stoop down a minute; I have a word or two to say."
+
+David dropped on his knees at once, and put his hand on Grannie's
+shoulder.
+
+"You aint likely to have a rise in your wages soon, are you, Dave?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I am! arter a bit," he answered.  "Mr. Groves is real pleased
+with me.  He says I am a steady lad, and he often sets me to cast up
+accounts for him, and do little odds and ends of jobs.  He says he has
+always railed against the School Board, but sometimes, when he sees how
+tidy I can write, and how well I can read and spell, he's inclined to
+change his mind."
+
+"And what rise will he give?" said Grannie, whose mind was entirely
+fixed on the money part of the question.
+
+"Well, maybe a shilling more a week, when the first year is out."
+
+"And that 'll be----"
+
+"Next March, Grannie; not so long coming round."
+
+"Yes," she replied, "yes."  In spite of herself, her voice had a sad
+note in it.  "Well, you see, Dave, you can't keep yourself on half a
+crown a week."
+
+"I wish I could," he answered, looking dispirited, "but I thought you
+were content.  Is there anything that worries you, old lady?"
+
+"No, that there aint, my brave boy.  You stick to your work and please
+your master; you're safe to get on."
+
+"I wish I could support myself," said David.  "I wish I knew shorthand;
+that's the thing.  A lad who knows shorthand, and can write and spell
+as well as I can, can earn his ten shillings a week easy."
+
+"Ten shillings a week," said Grannie.  "Lor' save us, what a power of
+money!"
+
+"It's true," said David; "there's a lad who was at school with me--his
+name was Phil Martin--he managed to pick up shorthand, and he's earning
+ten shillings a week now.  He's a bit younger than I am, too.  He won't
+be fifteen for two months yet."
+
+"Shorthand?" said Grannie, in her reflective voice; "that's writing,
+aint it?"
+
+"Why, to be sure, Grannie; only a different sort of writing."
+
+"Still, you call it writing, don't you?"
+
+"To be sure I do."
+
+"Then, for the Lord's sake, don't have anythink to do with it, David.
+Ef there is a mischievous, awful thing in the world, it's handwriting.
+I only do it twice a year, and it has finished me, my lad--it has
+finished me out and out.  No, don't talk of it--keep your half a crown
+a week, and don't be tempted with no handwriting, short or long."
+
+David looked puzzled and distressed; Grannie's words did not amuse him
+in the least--they were spoken with great passion, with a rising color
+in the little old cheeks, and a flash of almost fever in the bright
+eyes.  Grannie had always been the perfect embodiment of health and
+strength to all the grandchildren, and David did not understand her
+this morning.
+
+"Still," he said, "I can't agree with you about shorthand; it's a grand
+thing--it's a trade in itself; but there's no chance of my getting to
+know it, for I aint got the money.  Now, hadn't I better get breakfast?
+Ally will be out in a minute."
+
+"No, no; there's time enough.  Look here, Dave, Harry must leave school
+altogether--he's old enough, and he has passed the standard.  He must
+earn somethink.  Couldn't he go as one of them messenger boys?"
+
+"Perhaps so, Grannie; but why are you in such a hurry?  Harry's really
+clever; he's got more brains than any of us, and he earns a shilling or
+so a week now in the evenings helping me with the figures at Mr.
+Groves'."
+
+"Do you think Mr. Groves would take him on altogether, Dave?"
+
+"No, he'd do better as a messenger boy--but don't hurry about him
+leaving school.  He'd best stay until midsummer, then he'll be fit for
+anything."
+
+"Midsummer," said the old woman to herself, "midsummer!  Oh, good Lord!"
+
+She bent her head down to prevent David seeing the tears which suddenly
+softened her brave eyes.
+
+"What's all this fuss about Alison?" said David suddenly.
+
+At these words Grannie rose to her feet.
+
+"Nothing," she said, "nothing--it's nothing more than what I'd call a
+storm in a tea-cup.  They have lost a five-pound note at Shaw's and
+they choose, the Lord knows why, to put the blame on our Ally.  Of
+course they'll find the note, and Ally will be cleared."
+
+"It seems a pity she left the shop," said David.
+
+"Pity!" said Mrs. Reed.  "You don't suppose that Ally is a Phipps and a
+Reed for nothink.  We 'old our heads high, and we'll go on doing so.
+Why, Dave, they think a sight of Alison in that shop.  Mr. Shaw knows
+what she's worth; he don't believe she's a thief, bless her!
+Yesterday, when I went to see him, he spoke of her as genteel as you
+please, and he wanted her back again."
+
+"Then why, in the name of goodness, doesn't she go?" said David.
+
+"Being a Phipps and Reed, she couldn't," replied Grannie.  "We, none of
+us, can humble ourselves--'taint in us--the breed won't allow it.  Ally
+was to say she was sorry for having done nothing at all, and, being a
+Phipps and a Reed, it wasn't to be done.  Don't talk any more about it,
+lad.  Shaw will be going on his knees to have her back in a day or two;
+but I have a thought in my head that she may do better even than in the
+shop.  There, you've comforted me, my boy--you are a real out-and-out
+comfort to me, David."
+
+"I am glad of that," said the young fellow.  "There's no one like you
+to me--no one."
+
+He kissed her withered cheek, which was scarcely like an apple this
+morning, being very pale and weary.
+
+"Grannie," he said, "is it true that Ally is going to marry Jim Hardy?"
+
+"It's true that Jim Hardy wants her to marry him," replied Grannie.
+
+"I wonder if he does?" replied David, in a thoughtful voice.  "They say
+that Clay's daughter is mad for Jim, and she'll have a tidy sight of
+money."
+
+"She may be as mad as she pleases, but she won't get Jim.  Now, do
+hurry on with the breakfast.  What a lad you are for chattering!"
+
+Poor David, who had certainly been induced to chatter by Grannie
+herself, made no response, but rose and set about his work as
+kitchen-maid and cook with much deftness.  He stirred the oatmeal into
+the pot of boiling water, made the porridge, set the huge smoking dish
+on the center of the table, put the children's mugs round, laid a
+trencher of brown bread and a tiny morsel of butter on the board, and
+then, having seen that Grannie's teapot held an extra pinch of tea, he
+poured boiling water on it, and announced the meal as ready.  The
+younger children now came trooping in, neat and tidy and ready for
+school.  Grannie had trained her little family to be very orderly.  As
+the children entered the room they came up to her one by one, and
+bestowed a kiss on her old lips.  Her salutation to them was always
+simple and always the same: "Bless you, Polly; bless you, Susie; bless
+you, Kitty."  But immediately after the blessing came sharp, quick
+words.
+
+"Now, no dawdling; set down and be quick about it--sup up your porridge
+without letting a drop of it get on your clean pinafores, or I'll smack
+you."
+
+Grannie never did smack the children, so this last remark of hers had
+long fallen flat.  Alison came in almost immediately after the
+children, and then, after a longer interval, Harry, looking red and
+sleepy, took his place by the table.  Harry was undoubtedly the black
+sheep of the family.  Both Alison and David bestowed on him one or two
+anxious glances, but Grannie was too absorbed in some other thought to
+take much notice of him this morning.  Immediately after breakfast the
+children knelt down, and Grannie repeated the Lord's Prayer aloud.
+Then came a great scampering and rushing about.
+
+"Good-by, Grannie--good-by, Ally," came from several pairs of lips.
+
+Then a clatter downstairs, then a silence--even David had gone away.
+On ordinary occasions Alison would have departed quite an hour before
+the children, as she always had to be at the shop in good time to
+display her excellent taste in the dressing of the windows.  To-day she
+and Grannie were left behind together.
+
+"You don't look well, Grannie," began the young girl.
+
+"Now, listen, Alison," said Mrs. Reed, speaking in quite a tart voice,
+"ef you want to really vex me, you'll talk of my looks.  I'm at the
+slack time o' life, and a little more color or a little less don't
+matter in the least.  Ef I were forty and looked pale, or eighty and
+looked pale, it might be a subject to worry 'em as love me; being
+sixty-eight, I have let off pressure, so to speak, and it don't matter,
+not one little bit, whether I'm like a fresh apple or a piece o' dough.
+I am goin' out marketing now, and when I come back I'll give you a
+fresh lesson in that feather-stitching."
+
+A dismayed look crept into Alison's face; she raised her delicate brows
+very slightly, and fixed her clear blue eyes on Grannie.  She was about
+to speak, but something in the expression on Grannie's face kept her
+silent.
+
+"You clear up and have the place tidy against I come back," said the
+little woman.  "You might make the beds, and set everything in
+apple-pie order, ef you've a mind to."
+
+She then walked into her little bedroom, and shut the door behind her.
+In three minutes she was dressed to go out, not in the neat drawn
+black-silk bonnet, but in an old straw one which had belonged to her
+mother, and which was extremely obsolete in pattern.  This bonnet had
+once been white, but it was now of the deepest, most dingy shade of
+yellow-brown.  It had a little band of brown ribbon round it, which
+ended neatly in a pair of strings; these were tied under Grannie's
+chin.  Instead of her black cashmere shawl she wore one of very rough
+material and texture, and of a sort of zebra pattern, which she had
+picked up cheap many and many years ago from a traveling peddler.  She
+wore no gloves on her hands, but the poor, swollen, painful right hand
+was wrapped in a corner of the zebra shawl.  On her left arm she
+carried her market basket.
+
+"Good-by, child," she said, nodding to her granddaughter.  Then she
+trotted downstairs and out into the street.
+
+There was no fog to-day--the air was keen and bright, and there was
+even a very faint attempt at some watery sunbeams.  There wasn't a
+better bargainer in all Shoreditch than Mrs. Reed, but to-day her
+purchases were very small--a couple of Spanish onions, half a pound of
+American cheese, some bread, a tiny portion of margarine--and she had
+expended what money she thought proper.
+
+She was soon at home again, and dinner was arranged.
+
+"I may as well get the dinner," said Alison, rising and taking the
+basket from the old woman.
+
+"My dear, there aint nothing to get; it's all ready.  The children must
+have bread for dinner to-day.  I bought a stale quartern loaf--I got a
+penny off it, being two days old; here's a nice piece of cheese; and
+onions cut up small will make a fine relish.  There, we'll put the
+basket in the scullery; and now, Alison, come over to the light and
+take a lesson in the feather-stitching."
+
+Alison followed Mrs. Reed without a word.  They both took their places
+near the window.
+
+"Thread that needle for me, child," said the old woman.
+
+Alison obeyed.  Mrs. Reed had splendid sight for her age; nothing had
+ever ailed her eyes, and she never condescended to wear glasses, old as
+she was, except by lamplight.  Alison therefore felt some surprise when
+she was invited to thread the needle.  She did so in gloomy and solemn
+silence, and gave it back with a suppressed sigh to her grandmother.
+
+"I don't think there's much use, Grannie," she said.
+
+"Much use in wot?" said Mrs. Reed.
+
+"In my learning that feather-stitching--I haven't it in me.  I hate
+needlework."
+
+"Oh, Ally!"
+
+Grannie raised her two earnest eyes.
+
+"All women have needlework in 'em if they please," she said; "it's born
+in 'em.  You can no more be a woman without needlework than you can be
+a man without mischief--it's born in you, child, the same as bed-making
+is, and cleaning stoves, and washing floors, and minding babies, and
+coddling husbands, and bearing all the smaller worries of life--they
+are all born in a woman, Alison, and she can no more escape 'em than
+she can escape wearing the wedding-ring when she goes to church to be
+wed."
+
+"Oh, the wedding-ring! that's different," said Alison, looking at her
+pretty slender finger as she spoke.  "Oh, Grannie, dear Grannie, my
+heart's that heavy I think it 'll break!  I can't see the
+feather-stitching, I can't really."  Her eyes brimmed up with tears.
+"Grannie, don't ask me to do the fine needlework to-day."
+
+Grannie's face turned pale.
+
+"I wouldn't ef I could help it," she said.  "Jest to please me,
+darling, take a little lesson; you will be glad bimeby, you really
+will.  Why, this stitch is in the family, and it 'ud be 'a burning
+shame for it to go out.  Dear, dearie me, Alison, it aint a small thing
+that could make me cry, but I'd cry ef this beautiful stitch, wot come
+down from the Simpsons to the Phippses, and from the Phippses to the
+Reeds, is lost.  You must learn it ef you want to keep me cheerful,
+Ally dear."
+
+"But I thought I knew it, Grannie," said the girl.
+
+"Not to say perfect, love--the loop don't go right with you, and the
+loop's the p'int.  Ef you don't draw that loop up clever and tight, you
+don't get the quilting, and the quilting's the feature that none of the
+workwomen in West London can master.  Now, see yere, look at me.  I'll
+do a bit, and you watch."
+
+Grannie took up the morsel of cambric; she began the curious movements
+of the wrist and hand, the intricate, involved contortions of the
+thread.  The magic loop made its appearance; the quilting stood out in
+richness and majesty on the piece of cambric.  Grannie made three or
+four perfect stitches in an incredibly short space of time.  She then
+put the cambric into her granddaughter's hand.
+
+"Now, child," she said, "show me what you can do."
+
+Alison yawned slightly, and took up the work without any enthusiasm.
+She made the first correct mystic passage with needle and thread; when
+she came to the loop she failed to go right, and the effect was bungled
+and incomplete.
+
+"Not that way; for mercy's sake, don't twist the thread like that!"
+called Grannie, in an agony.  "Give it to me; I'll show yer."
+
+It seemed like profanation to see her exquisite work tortured and
+murdered.  She snatched the cambric from Alison, and set to work to
+make another perfect stitch herself.  At that moment there came the
+sudden and terrible pain--the shooting agony up the arm, followed by
+the partial paralysis of thumb and forefinger.  Grannie could not help
+uttering a suppressed groan; her face turned white; she felt a passing
+sense of nausea and faintness; the work dropped from her hand; the
+perspiration stood on her forehead.  She looked at Alison with
+wide-open, pitiful eyes.
+
+"Wot is it, Grannie--what is it, darlin'?  For God's sake, wot's
+wrong?" said the girl, going on her knees and putting her arms round
+the little woman.
+
+"It's writers' cramp, honey, writers' cramp, and me that never writes
+but twice a year; it's starvation, darlin'.  Oh, darlin', darlin', it's
+starvation--that's ef you don't learn the stitch."
+
+All of a sudden Grannie's fortitude had given way; she sobbed and
+sobbed--not in the loud, full, strong way of the young and vigorous,
+but with those low, suppressed, deep-drawn sobs of the aged.  All in a
+minute she felt herself quite an old and useless woman--she, who had
+been the mainspring of the household, the breadwinner of the family!
+All of a sudden she had dropped very low.  Alison was full of
+consternation, but she did not understand grief like Grannie's.  She
+was at one end of life, and Grannie was at the other; the old woman
+understood the girl--having past experience to guide her--but the girl
+could not understand the old woman.  It was a relief to Grannie to tell
+out her fear, but Alison did not comprehend it; she was full of pity,
+but she was scarcely full of sympathy.  It seemed impossible for her to
+believe that Grannie's cunning right hand was going to be useless, that
+the beautiful work must stop, that the means of livelihood must cease,
+that the old woman must be turned into a useless, helpless log--no
+longer the mainspring, but a helpless addition to the strained
+household.
+
+Alison could not understand, but she did her best to cheer Grannie up.
+
+"There, there," she said; "of course that doctor was wrong.  In all my
+life I never heard of such a thing as writers' cramp.  Writers'
+cramp!--it's one of the new diseases, Grannie, that doctors are just
+forcing into the world to increase their earnings.  I heard tell in the
+shop, by a girl what knows, that every year doctors push two new
+diseases into fashion, so as to fill their pockets.  But for them, we'd
+never have had influenza, and now it's writers' cramp is to be the
+rage.  Well, let them as writes get it; but you don't write, you know,
+Grannie."
+
+"That's wot I say," replied Grannie, cheering up wonderfully.  "No one
+can get a disease by writing two letters in a year.  I don't suppose it
+is it, at all."
+
+"I'm sure it isn't," said Alison; "but you are just tired out, and must
+rest for a day or two.  It's a good thing that I'm at home, for I can
+rub your hand and arm with that liniment.  You'll see, you'll be all
+right again in a day or two."
+
+"To be sure I will," said Grannie; "twouldn't be like my luck ef I
+warn't."  But all the same she knew in her heart of hearts that she
+would not.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+Both Alison and Mrs. Reed were quite of the opinion that, somehow or
+other, the affair of the five-pound note would soon be cleared up.  The
+more the two women talked over the whole occurrence, the more certain
+they were on that point.  When Grannie questioned her carefully, Alison
+confessed that while she was attending to her two rather troublesome
+customers, it would have been quite within the region of possibility
+for someone to approach the till unperceived.  Of course Alison had
+noticed no one; but that would not have prevented the deed being done.
+
+"The more I think of it, the more certain I am it's that Clay girl,"
+said Grannie.  "Oh, yes, that Clay girl is at the bottom of it.  I'll
+tell Jim so the next time he calls."
+
+"But I don't expect Jim to call--at least at present," said Alison,
+heaving a heavy sigh, and fixing her eyes on the window.
+
+"And why not, my dearie, why shouldn't you have the comfort of seeing
+him?"
+
+"It aint a comfort at present, Grannie; it is more than I can bear.  I
+won't engage myself to Jim until I am cleared, and I love him so much,
+Grannie, and he loves me so much that it is torture to me to see him
+and refuse him; but I am right, aint I?  Do say as I'm right."
+
+"Coming of the blood of the Simpsons, the Phippses and Reeds, you can
+do no different," said Grannie, in a solemn tone.  "You'll be cleared
+werry soon, Alison, for there's a God above, and you are a poor orphin
+girl, and we have his promise that he looks out special for orphins;
+oh, yes, 'twill all come right, and in the meantime you might as well
+take a lesson in the feather-stitching."
+
+But though Grannie spoke with right good faith, and Alison cheered up
+all she could, things did not come right.  The theft was not brought
+home to the wicked Clay girl, as Grannie now invariably called her;
+Shaw did not go on his knees to Alison to return; and one day Jim, who
+did still call at the Reeds' notwithstanding Alison's prohibition,
+brought the gloomy tidings that Shaw was seeing other girls with a view
+to filling up Alison's place in the shop.  This was a dark blow indeed,
+and both Alison and Grannie felt themselves turning very pale, and
+their hearts sinking, when Jim brought them the unpleasant news.
+
+"Set down, Jim Hardy, set down," said Grannie, but her lips trembled
+with passion as she spoke.  "I don't want to see anyone in my house
+that I don't offer a chair to, but I can't think much of your detective
+powers, lad, or you'd have got your own gel cleared long ere this."
+
+"I aint his own girl, and he knows it," said Alison, speaking pertly
+because her heart was so sick.
+
+Jim hardly noticed her sharp words--he was feeling very depressed
+himself--he sank into the chair Grannie had offered him, placed his big
+elbows on his knees, pushed his huge hands through his thick hair, and
+scratched his head in perplexity.
+
+"It's an awful mystery, that it is," he said; "there aint a person in
+the shop as don't fret a bit for Ally--she was so bright and
+genteel-looking; and no one thinks she's done it.  If only, Alison, you
+hadn't gone away so sharp, the whole thing would have blown over by
+now."
+
+"Coming of the blood----" began Grannie; but Alison knew the conclusion
+of that sentence, and interrupted her.
+
+"Bygones is bygones," she said, "and we have got to face the future.
+I'll look out for another post to-day; I'll begin to study the papers,
+and see what can be done.  It aint to be supposed that this will crush
+me out and out, and me so young and strong."
+
+"But you'll have to get a character," said Jim, whose brow had not
+relaxed from the deep frown which it wore.
+
+Alison gave her head another toss.
+
+"I must do my best," she said.  She evidently did not intend to pursue
+the subject further with her lover.
+
+Jim was not at all an unobservant man.  He had seen many signs which
+distressed him, both in Grannie's face and Alison's; he knew also that
+Harry had been taken from school quite a year too soon; he knew well
+that Alison's bread winnings were necessary for the family, and that it
+was impossible to expect an old body like Grannie to feed all those
+hungry mouths much longer.
+
+"Look here," he said, rising suddenly to his feet, "I have got
+something to say."
+
+"Oh, dear, dear, why will you waste our time?" said Alison.
+
+"It aint waste, and you have got to listen--please, Mrs. Reed, don't go
+out of the room; I want you to hear it too.  Now, you look at me,
+Alison Reed.  I am big, aint I, and I'm strong, and I earn good wages,
+right good--for a man as isn't twenty-five yet.  I'm getting close on
+two pounds a week now, and you can see for yourselves that that's a
+good pile."
+
+"Bless us!" said Grannie, "it's a powerful heap of money."
+
+"Well, I'm getting that," said Jim, with a sort of righteous pride on
+his face, "and no one who knows what's what could complain of the same.
+Now, this is what I'm thinking.  I am all alone in the world; I haven't
+kith nor kin belonging to me, only an uncle in Australia, and he don't
+count, as I never set eyes on him.  I'd have never come to London but
+for father and mother dying off sudden when I was but a bit of a lad.
+I'm sort of lonely in the evenings, and I want a wife awful bad."
+
+"Well, there's Louisa Clay, and she's willing," said Alison, who,
+notwithstanding that her heart was almost bursting, could not restrain
+her flippant tone.
+
+Jim gave her a steady look out of his dark gray eyes, but did not
+reply.  She lowered her own eyes then, unable to bear their true and
+faithful glance.
+
+"What I say is this," said Jim, "that I know you, Alison; you aint no
+more a thief than I am.  Why shouldn't you come home to me?  Why
+shouldn't you make me happy--and why shouldn't I help the lads and
+Grannie a bit?  You'd have as snug a home as any girl in London; and
+I'd be proud to work for you.  I wouldn't want you to do any more
+shopwork.  Why should we wait and keep everybody wretched just for a
+bit of false pride?  Why should you not trust me, Ally?  And I love
+you, my dear; I love you faithful and true."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't say any more, Jim," said Alison.
+
+The note in her voice had changed from sharp petulance to a low sort of
+wail.  She sank on a chair, laid her head on the table which stood
+near, and burst into tears.
+
+"Grannie, I wish you would try and persuade her," said the young man.
+
+"I'll talk to her," said Grannie; "it seems reasonable enough.  Two
+pounds a week!  Lor' bless us! why, it's wealth--and ef you love her,
+Jim?"
+
+"Need you ask?" he answered.
+
+"No, I needn't; you're a good lad.  Well, come back again, Jim; go away
+now and come back again.  We'll see you at the end of a week, that we
+will."
+
+Jim rose slowly and unwillingly.  Alison would not look at him.  She
+was sobbing in a broken-hearted way behind her handkerchief.
+
+"I don't see why there should be suspense," he said, as he took up his
+cap.  "It's the right thing to do; everything else is wrong.  And see
+here, Alison, I'll take a couple of the children; they don't cost much,
+I know, and it will be such a help to Grannie."
+
+"To be sure, that it will," said Grannie.  "That offer about the
+children is a p'int to be considered.  You go away, Jim, and come back
+again at the end of a week."
+
+The young man gave a loving glance at Alison's sunny head as it rested
+on the table.  His inclination was to go up to her, take her head
+between his hands, raise the tearful face, kiss the tears away, and, in
+short, take the fortress by storm.  But Grannie's presence prevented
+this, and Alison would not once look up.  The old woman gave him an
+intelligent and hopeful glance, and he was obliged to be content with
+it and hurry off.
+
+"I'll come again next Tuesday to get my answer," he said.
+
+Alison murmured something which he did not hear.  The next instant he
+had left the room.
+
+The moment his footsteps had died away Alison raised her tearful face.
+
+"You had no right to do it, Grannie," she said.  "It was sort of
+encouraging him."
+
+"Dry your tears now, child," said Mrs. Reed.  "We'll talk of this later
+on."
+
+"You said yourself I'd have no proper pride to marry Jim at present,"
+continued the girl.
+
+"We'll talk of this later on," said Grannie; "the children will be home
+in a minute to tea.  After tea you and me will talk it over while they
+are learning their lessons."
+
+Grannie could be very immovable and determined when she liked.  Having
+lived with her all her life, Alison knew her every mood.  She perceived
+now, by her tightly shut up lips, and the little compression, which was
+scarcely a frown, between her brows, that she could get nothing more
+out of her at present.
+
+She prepared the tea, therefore; and when the children came in she cut
+bread and margerine for them, for butter had long ago ceased to appear
+on Grannie's board.
+
+After tea the children went into Grannie's bedroom to learn their
+lessons, and the old woman and the young found themselves alone.  The
+lamp was lit, and the little room looked very cheerful; it was warm and
+snug.  Grannie sat with her hands before her.
+
+"I thought I wouldn't tell you, but I must," she said.  "It's a month
+to-day, aint it, Ally, since you lost your place?"
+
+"Yes, a month exactly," replied Alison.  "It is close on Christmas now,
+Grannie."
+
+"Aye," said the old woman, "aye, and Christmas is a blessed, cheerful
+time.  This is Tuesday; Friday will be Christmas Day.  We must have a
+nice Christmas for the children, and we will too.  We'll all be
+cheerful on Christmas Day.  Jim might as well come, whatever answer you
+give him next week.  He's all alone, poor lad, and he might come and
+join our Christmas dinner."
+
+"But we haven't much money," said Alison.  "We miss what I earned at
+the shop, don't we?"
+
+"We miss it," said Grannie, "yes."
+
+She shut up her lips very tightly.  At this moment quick footsteps were
+heard running up the stairs, and the postman's sharp knock sounded on
+the little door.  Alison went to get the letter.  It was for Grannie,
+from a large West End shop; the name of the shop was written in clear
+characters on the flap of the envelope.
+
+Grannie took it carefully between the thumb and finger of her left
+hand--she used her right hand now only when she could not help it.  No
+one remarked this fact, and she hoped that no one noticed it.  She
+unfastened the flap of the envelope slowly and carefully, and, taking
+the letter out, began to read it.  It was a request from the manager
+that she would call at ten o'clock the following morning to take a
+large order for needlework which was required to be completed in a
+special hurry.  Grannie laid the letter by Alison's side.
+
+Alison read it.  She had been accustomed to such letters coming from
+that firm to Grannie for several years.  Such letters meant many of the
+comforts which money brings; they meant warm fires, and good meals, and
+snug clothes, and rent for the rooms, and many of the other necessaries
+of life.
+
+"Well," said the girl, in a cheery tone, "that's nice.  You have nearly
+finished the last job, haven't you, Grannie?"
+
+"No, I aint," said Grannie, with a sort of gasp in her voice.
+
+"I thought I saw you working at it every day."
+
+"So I have been, and in a sense it is finished and beautiful, I am
+sure; but there aint no feather-stitching.  I can't manage the
+feather-stitching.  I can never featherstitch any more, Alison.  Maybe
+for a short time longer I may go on with plain needlework, but that
+special twist and the catching up of the loop in the quilting part of
+the feather-stitching, it's beyond me, darlin'.  'Taint that I can't
+see how to do it, 'taint that I aint willing, but it's the finger and
+thumb, dearie; they won't meet to do the work proper.  It's all over,
+love, all the money-making part of my work.  It's them letters to
+Australia, love.  Oh, dear! oh, dear!"
+
+Grannie laid her white head down on the table.  It was a very sad sight
+to see it there, a much more pathetic sight than it had been to see
+Alison's golden head in the same position an hour or two ago.  There
+was plenty of hope in Alison's grief, heart-broken as it seemed, but
+there was no hope at all in the old woman's despair.  The last time she
+had given way and spoken of her fears to Alison she had sobbed; but she
+shed no tears now--the situation was too critical.
+
+"_Ef_ you had only learned the stitch," she said to her granddaughter.
+There was a faint shadow of reproach in her tone.  "I can't show it to
+you now; but ef you had only learned it."
+
+"But I do know it," said Alison, in distress.
+
+"Not proper, dear; not as it should be done.  I fear that I can never
+show you now."
+
+"And that is why you want me to marry Jim?" said Alison.  "I wonder at
+you, Grannie--you who have such pride!"
+
+"There are times and seasons," said Grannie, "when pride must give way,
+and it seems to me that we have come to this pass.  I looked at Jim
+when he was talking to-day, and I saw clear--clear as if in a
+vision--that he would never cast up to you those words that you dread.
+If you are never cleared of that theft, Alison, Jim will never call his
+wife a thief.  Jim is good to the heart's core, and he is powerful
+rich, and ef you don't marry him, my gel, you'll soon be starving, for
+I can't do the feather-stitching.  I can't honestly do the work.  I'll
+go and see the manager to-morrow morning; but it's all up with me,
+child.  You ought to marry Jim, dear, and you ought to provide a home
+for the two little ones--for Polly and little Kitty."
+
+"And what's to become of you, Grannie, and Dave, and Harry, and Annie?"
+
+"Maybe Jim would take Annie too, now that he is so rich."
+
+"Do you think it would be right to ask him?"
+
+"No, I don't; no, I don't.  Well, anyhow, it is good to have half the
+fam'ly put straight.  You will think of it, Ally, you will think of it;
+you've got a whole week to think of it in."
+
+"I will think of it," said Alison, in a grave voice.
+
+She got up presently; she was feeling very restless and excited.
+
+"I think I'll go out for a bit," she said.
+
+"Do, child, do; it will bring a bit of color into your cheeks."
+
+"Is there anything I can get for you, Grannie--anything for Christmas?
+You said we were to be happy till after Christmas."
+
+"So we will; I have made up my mind firm on that p'int.  We'll have a
+right good Christmas.  There's three pounds in my purse.  We'll spend
+five shillings for Christmas Day.  That ought to give us a powerful lot
+o' good food.  Oh, yes, we'll manage for Christmas."
+
+"This is Tuesday," said Alison, "and Christmas Day comes Friday.  Shall
+I get any of the things to-night, Grannie?"
+
+Grannie looked up at the tall girl who stood by her side.  She saw the
+restless, agitated expression on the young face.
+
+"She'll like to have the feel of money in her hands again," thought the
+little woman.  "I'll trust her with a shillin'.  Lor', I hope she'll be
+careful with it.  Twelve pennies can do a mint ef they're spent
+careful."
+
+She went slowly to her cupboard, took her keys out of her pocket,
+unlocked it with her left hand, and, taking her little purse from a
+secret receptacle at the back of the cupboard, produced a shilling from
+her hoard.
+
+"There," she said, "for the Lord's sake don't drop it; put it safe in
+your pocket.  You might get the raisins for the puddin' and the sugar
+and the flour out o' this.  You choose from the bargain counter, and
+use your eyes, and don't buy raisins what have got no fruit in 'em.
+Sometimes at bargain counters they are all skin, and good for nothink;
+but ef you are sharp you can sometimes pick up right good fruity fruit,
+and that's the sort we want.  Now, don't be long away.  Yes, for sure,
+we may as well have the stuff for the puddin' in the house."
+
+Alison promised to be careful.  She put on her neat black hat and
+jacket and went out.  She had scarcely gone a hundred yards before she
+came straight up against Louisa Clay.  Louisa looked very stylish in a
+large mauve-colored felt hat, and a fur boa round her neck; her black
+hair was much befrizzed and becurled.  Alison shrank from the sight of
+her, and was about to go quickly by when the other girl drew up
+abruptly.
+
+"Why, there you are," she said; "I was jest thinking of coming round to
+see yer."
+
+Alison stood still when she was addressed, but she did not make any
+remark.  Her intention was to go on as soon as ever Louisa had finished
+speaking.  Louisa's own intention was quite different.
+
+"Well, I am glad," she continued.  "I have a lot of things to say.  Do
+you know your place is filled up?"
+
+"Yes," said Alison, flushing.  "Jim told me."
+
+"Jim!" repeated Louisa, with a note of scorn.  "Don't you think you are
+very free and easy with Mr. Hardy?  And when did you see him?" she
+added, a jealous light coming into her eyes.
+
+"He was at our house this afternoon.  I must say good-evening now,
+Louisa.  I am in a hurry; I am doing some errands for Grannie."
+
+"Oh, I don't mind walking a bit o' the way with you.  You are going
+shopping, is it?"
+
+"Well, yes; Christmas is near, you know."
+
+Alison felt herself shrinking more and more from Louisa.  She hated her
+to walk by her side.  It irritated her beyond words to hear her speak
+of Jim.  She dreaded more than she could tell Louisa finding out how
+poor they were; nothing would induce her to get the bargain raisins or
+any of the other cheap things in her presence.
+
+"I am rather in a hurry," she said; "perhaps you won't care to go so
+fast."
+
+"As it happens, I have nothing special to do.  I'll go with you now, or
+I'll call in by and by and have a chat.  I don't know that old Grannie
+of yours, but folks say she's quite a character.  Jim said so last
+night when he was supping at our house."
+
+"I am sure he didn't," muttered Alison under her breath angrily; but
+she refrained from making any comment aloud.
+
+"Well," said Louisa, "you'd like to know what sort of girl is coming to
+Shaw's to take up your work?"
+
+"I don't think I would," replied Alison; "I am really not interested."
+
+"I wonder you care to tell such lies, Alison Reed!  Anyone can tell by
+your face that you are just burning with curiosity and jealousy."
+
+"You mustn't say such things to me," said Alison; "if you do, I won't
+walk with you."
+
+"Oh, my word, how grand we are!" said the other girl; "how high and
+mighty, and all the rest of it!  To be sure, Alison, you were a flat to
+run off the way you did that day.  There is not a person in the shop
+that don't think you guilty, and small blame to 'em, I say.  Poor Jim
+did fret a bit the first day or two, but I think he's pretty happy now;
+he comes to our house constant.  He's very fine company is Jim, he
+sings so well; and did you know he had a turn for acting?  We're
+getting up a little play for Christmas Eve, and Jim's to be the hero;
+I'm the heroine.  My word! it's as pretty a bit of love-making as you'd
+often see.  I tell you what it is, Alison; I'll give you an invitation.
+You shall come and see it; you will now, won't you?  I'll think you're
+devoured with jealousy if you don't.  You will; say you will."
+
+Alison paused for a moment--a sort of inward rage consumed her.  How
+dared Jim profess such love for her, and yet give up so much of his
+time to Louisa--how dared he make love to her even in play!  A sudden
+fierce resolve came into her heart.  Yes, she would see the acting--she
+would judge for herself.  Christmas Eve, that was Thursday
+night--Thursday was a good way off from Tuesday, the day when she was
+to give Jim her answer.  As she walked now by Louisa's side, she
+guessed what her answer would be--she would be careful and
+cautious--oh, yes, she would see for herself.
+
+"I will come," she said suddenly, and to Louisa's great surprise--"I
+will come, if you promise me one thing."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Don't tell Jim Hardy--don't say anything about it.  When he sees me
+he'll know, but don't tell him beforehand."
+
+Louisa burst into a loud, scathing laugh.
+
+"To hear you speak, Alison," she said, "one would think that you were
+somebody of consequence to Mr. Hardy.  Oh, dear--oh, dear, the conceit
+of some folks!  Do you suppose it would make any _difference_ to him
+whether you came or not?  But take my word for it, I won't tell him."
+
+"Thank you," said Alison.  "Yes, I'll be there.  What time shall I
+come?"
+
+"The acting begins at nine o'clock, but there's supper first at eight;
+you had best come to supper.  I will put you in a corner where you
+can't get even a sight of Jim's face, then you'll be easy and happy in
+your mind."
+
+"No, I won't come to supper, but I'll come in time for the acting.  I
+am very much obliged, I am sure."
+
+Louisa gave vent to a great yawn.
+
+"Seems to me," she said, "that you aint up to much shopping; you
+haven't gone into one shop yet."
+
+"No more I have," said Alison.  "I have changed my mind; I won't buy
+the things I meant to to-night.  I'll go home now; so I'll say
+good-evening."
+
+"Good-evening," said Louisa, accompanying her words with a sweeping
+courtesy which she considered full of style and grace.
+
+She went home chuckling to herself.
+
+"I guess that acting will finish up Alison's love affair," she thought.
+"It won't be any fault of mine if it doesn't.  Oh, good-evening, Mr.
+Sampson."
+
+George Sampson, who had been looking out for Louisa, now joined her,
+and the two walked back to the pawnshop arm in arm, and talking very
+confidentially together, Louisa had been true to her own
+predictions--she had so flattered and so assiduously wooed George
+Sampson that he was her devoted slave by this time.  He came to see her
+every night, and had assured Jim Hardy long ago that of all people in
+the world Louisa was the last who had anything to do with the stealing
+of the five-pound note.  Louisa's own charms were the sort which would
+appeal to a man like Sampson, but whether he would have made up his
+mind to marry her, if he did not know that she was safe to have a nice
+little sum down from her father on her wedding-day, remains an open
+question.
+
+As Alison walked home, many angry and jealous thoughts whirled through
+her brain.  Was Jim really false to her?--she forgot all about his face
+that afternoon; she forgot his earnest words.  She only recalled
+Louisa's look of triumph and the little play which was to be acted in
+her presence.
+
+"Yes, I'll be there," thought the girl; "yes, Christmas Eve shall
+decide it."
+
+She ran upstairs and entered the kitchen.  Grannie and David were
+sitting side by side, engaged in earnest conversation.  David blushed
+when he saw Alison, and suddenly slipped something under the table;
+Grannie patted his arm softly with her left hand.
+
+"Well, Ally, you are home in double-quick time," she said.
+
+"Too quick, is it?" said Alison, taking off her hat and flinging
+herself wearily into the nearest chair.
+
+"No, no, my child, never too quick," said the old lady; "and did you
+get a good bargain?" she added the next minute anxiously.  "Were you
+careful in the spending of that shillin'?  Why, I don't see any
+parcels.  For mercy's sake child, don't tell me that you dropped the
+shillin'."
+
+"No, I didn't, Grannie; here it is.  Somehow I am out of humor for
+bargains to-night--that's why I come back."
+
+Grannie took back the precious shilling tenderly.  She went to the
+cupboard and restored it to her purse.  As she did so, she gave a sigh
+of relief.  She was full of respect for Alison's powers, but not as a
+bargainer; she was certain she could get a penny-worth more value out
+of the shilling than her grand-daughter would.
+
+"Dave," she said, turning to the lad as she spoke, "Ally and I have
+made up our minds that, whatever happens, we'll have a right good
+Christmas.  We'll have a puddin' and snap-dragon, and a little bit of
+beef, and everything hot and tasty, and we'll have the stockings hung
+up just as usual by the children's beds; bless 'em, we'll manage it
+somehow--somehow or other it has got to be done.  Who knows but perhaps
+cheerful times may follow Christmas?  Yes, who knows?  There's never no
+use in being downhearted."
+
+"I suppose you are thinkin' of a wedding," said Alison suddenly.
+
+"Well, dear child, and why not?"
+
+"There's not much chance of it," was the reply, in a defiant tone.
+"Anyhow," continued Alison, "I've made up my mind to look for another
+situation to-morrow."
+
+Grannie's little white face became clouded.
+
+"I am going to Oxford Street, to a registry office," said Alison.  "I
+know lots about counter work, and I don't doubt that I may get a very
+good place; anyhow, I'm going to try."
+
+"Well, that's sperit, there's no denying that," said the old lady;
+"it's in the breed, and it can't be crushed."
+
+"David, what are you hiding under the table?" said Alison, in a fretful
+tone.  She felt too unhappy to be civil to anyone.
+
+"I have got spirit, too, and I'm not ashamed," said David suddenly.
+"It's a bit o' stuff I'm feather-stitching; there--I am learning the
+stitch."
+
+"Well!" said Alison; "you, a boy?"
+
+"Yes, I--a boy," he replied, looking her full between the eyes.
+
+There was something in the fearless glance of his gray eyes that caused
+her to lower her own--ashamed.
+
+"Dave's the blessing of my life," said Mrs. Reed; "he has learned the
+stitch, and though he do it slow, he do it true and beautiful.  It
+shan't never now die out of the fam'ly."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+Grannie felt that matters had arrived at a crisis.  Whatever the
+doctors chose to call the suffering which she endured, her right hand
+was fast becoming useless.  It was with her right hand that she
+supported her family; if it failed her, therefore, her livelihood was
+cut off.  She was a brave little woman; never in all her long life had
+she feared to look the truth in the face.  She looked at it now quietly
+and soberly.  Night after night she gazed at it as she lay in her tiny
+bed in her tiny bedroom, with a grandchild fast asleep at each side of
+her.  She lay motionless then, in too great pain to sleep, and with the
+future staring at her.
+
+To-night she went to bed as usual.  There was no manner of use in
+sitting up burning lamps and fire; it was far cheaper to lie down in
+the dark in bed.  She lay down and gazed straight out into the deep
+shadows which filled the little room.  It was a moonlight night, and
+some of the moon's rays pierced through the tiny window, but most of
+the room lay in shadow, and it was toward the shadow Grannie turned her
+eyes.
+
+"It's all true," she said to herself, "there aint no manner of use in
+denying it, or turning my face from it--it's true--it's the will o' the
+Lord.  My mother said to me--her as was a Simpson and married a
+Phipps--she said when my father died, 'Patty, it's the will o' the
+Lord.'  I didn't like, somehow, to hear her say it--the will o' the
+Lord seemed so masterful like, so crushing like, so cruel.  And now the
+will o' the Lord has come to me.  It wor the Lord's will to bless me
+all my life hitherto, but now it is his will to make things sore dark.
+Somehow I can't trust and I can't hope, for there's nothing to hope
+for, and there are the children, four of 'em unable to earn their
+bread.  Harry must make shift to do something, but there are three
+little ones.  Oh, good Lord, don't ever let me hear the children cry
+for bread!"
+
+As Grannie whispered these words out into the darkness, she laid her
+left hand tenderly on the flaxen head of her youngest grandchild.  Her
+hand stroked down the smooth, round head; the child stirred in her
+dreams, murmured "Grannie," and turned over on her other side.  She was
+very well, and very happy--as plump as a little button--a bonny,
+bright-eyed creature.  Grannie used to adore her stout legs.
+
+"Kitty have always been so well fed," she used to say; "that's the
+secret--there's nothink like it--nothink."
+
+And she had held the fat baby, and by and by the fat little girl, up
+admiringly for less fortunate neighbors to criticise.
+
+Now the fiat had fallen; the bread-winner could no longer earn the
+family meal, and Kitty and the others would have to do without their
+bread and butter.
+
+"It is true, and it must be faced," thought the old woman.  "The p'int
+to be considered now is, how is it to be faced?  Wot's the best way?"
+
+Grannie thought matters over very carefully.  Before the morning she
+had marked out a line of action for herself.  Christmas Day should come
+and go before any of the dark shadow which filled her own breast should
+descend upon the younger members of the household.  David and Alison
+knew about it, or at least they partly knew, although it was impossible
+for them to quite realize the extent of the disaster.  It was arranged,
+too, that Harry was to leave school, so he also must partly guess that
+something was up; but the little ones had never known sorrow yet, and
+Grannie resolved that they should have a perfect Christmas Day.
+Afterward, if Alison would only consent to marry Jim, half the family
+would be provided for.  For Grannie, although she was proud, had no
+false pride, and she felt that a man who was earning such magnificent
+wages as two pounds a week might undertake the care, at any rate for a
+time, of two little children.  But even granted that Alison and the two
+youngest were off her hands, there were still David, Harry, and Annie
+to provide for.  Grannie could not see her way plain with regard to
+these three members of the family.  She resolved to ask the advice of
+an old clergyman of the name of Williams, who had often before given
+her valuable counsel.  Mr. Williams was most kind; he was full of
+resources; he took a great interest in the poor; he had known Grannie
+for close on twenty years; he might be able to help her in this
+critical moment of her fate, Having made up her mind so far, the little
+woman fell asleep.
+
+When she heard at an early hour the following morning that Alison was
+still fully resolved to seek for a new situation, she suggested that
+she should call at the shop in Regent Street, see the manager, and
+explain to him as best she could that it was out of Grannie's power to
+do any more needlework.
+
+"You had best go," said Grannie, looking up at the girl with her bright
+blue eyes, and a determined expression steeling her sweet old mouth
+almost to sternness.  "Jest see the manager, Mr. Squire, and tell him
+the simple truth.  Take him back this underclothing; it is finished
+beautiful all but the feather-stitching.  I know he'll be put out, but
+I suppose he'll give me half pay--o' course, I don't expec' more.  Ef
+that cambric had been properly feather-stitched there was thirty
+shillings to be got on it; but I'll be glad of fifteen, and you can let
+Mr. Squire know.  I am pleased that Dave knows the stitch, for he can
+teach it to his wife when he gets one.  He have promised, dear lad;
+there's a fortin' in it yet, for a member of the fam'ly wot _hasn't_
+learned handwriting.  It's them schools wot are at the bottom of all
+this trouble, Alison.  Talk of edication!  My mother, wot was a Simpson
+by birth, could only put a cross agin her name, but Lor', wot a fine
+woman she was with sprigs!--we called the beginning of the
+feather-stitching sprigs in them days.  It was she invented sprigs, and
+she had no writers' cramp, nor a chance o' it, bless her!  Now then,
+dearie, run off, and bring me back the fifteen shillings.  We'll try to
+keep up 'eart till after Christmas Day."
+
+Alison was very silent and depressed, but she promised to do exactly as
+her grandmother wished in the matter of the feather-stitching; and with
+the cambric made up into a neat parcel she soon left the little flat.
+
+Grannie sighed deeply when she saw her go.  The little woman felt that
+she had burned her boats; there was no going back on anything now.  She
+had severed with her own hands her best connection, and nothing could
+ever be the same again.  A sort of agony came over her as she heard
+Alison running downstairs, a fierce desire to call her back, to beg of
+her not to go to Mr. Squire at all that day; but one glance at the
+swollen, useless hand made her change her mind.  She sat down limp on
+the nearest chair, and one or two slow tears trickled out of her eyes.
+
+By dinner time Alison was back; she was full of her own concerns, and
+considered Grannie and the feather-stitching, for the time being, quite
+a secondary matter.
+
+"The shop is a very good one," she said, "and they want a girl.  If I
+can bring a good character, I am very likely to get the situation.  It
+is twelve shillings a week, four--four shillings more than Shaw used to
+give me.  If only I can get Shaw to give me a character I'll be all
+right, and on twelve shillings a week we can keep up the house somehow;
+can't we, Grannie?"
+
+Grannie pursed up her lips, but did not speak.
+
+She knew far better than Alison that these small wages, although an
+immense help, could not possibly do the work which her
+feather-stitching money had accomplished.
+
+"Well, dearie," she said, after a pause, "I am glad that things are so
+far good; but have you quite made up your mind not to marry poor Jim,
+then, Alison?"
+
+"No, no, not quite," she replied, coloring; "but the fact is, I want
+two strings to my bow.  By the way, I did not tell you that the Clays
+have invited me to a party there to-morrow night?"
+
+"The Clays!" exclaimed Grannie.  "Sakes! you aint goin' to them?"
+
+"Yes, but I am.  I have promised."
+
+"I don't think the Clays are the sort of people that a girl of your
+breed ought to know, Alison.  Poor as we are, we hold up our heads, and
+why shouldn't we, being----"
+
+"Oh, Grannie, here is your fifteen shillings," interrupted Alison.  "I
+saw Mr. Squire, and he said he was sorry, but he really could not offer
+more, as the feather-stitching was not done."
+
+"He were put out, weren't he?" said Grannie, her little face puckered
+up in her intense anxiety to know how Mr. Squire bore the calamity.
+
+"After a fashion, yes," said Alison; "but he said the new embroidery
+which is coming in so much would do quite as well, and he knew a woman
+who would do the things in a hurry.  He said: 'Give my compliments to
+Mrs. Reed, and say I am sorry to lose her nice work,' and he paid me my
+money and bowed me out of the shop."
+
+"It is all over, Grannie," continued the girl, cruel in her severity,
+and not knowing she was stabbing the old woman's heart at every word.
+"You place wonderful store by that feather-stitching, but the new
+embroidery will do quite as well for all the fine ladies, and other
+women will get the money."
+
+"Yes, yes," said Grannie, "yes, it is the will o' the Lord.  Somehow,
+that seems to steady me up--to bear it like."
+
+She went out of the room tottering a little, but came back quite
+cheerful when the children returned home for the midday meal.
+
+After dinner Alison went to see Mr. Shaw.  She did not like this job at
+all, but she knew she had no chance of getting another place unless she
+could induce Shaw to give her a character.  She planned how best to go
+to the shop without being observed by the rest of the shop people.  She
+was too handsome a girl not to have created a great deal of attention
+during her stay at Shaw's, and now, with this story about the theft
+hanging over her head, she would be more interesting and more worthy of
+criticism than ever.  She dreaded beyond words being seen at Shaw's,
+more particularly by Louisa Clay and Jim Hardy.  She crept in by a side
+entrance, and as the shop was very full at this hour (Christmas being
+so close at hand, the crowd this afternoon was denser than ever), she
+managed to escape attention.  She could see without being noticed.  She
+observed Louisa flaunting about the shop, looking very handsome, and on
+every possible occasion appealing to Jim for advice or help.  Jim was
+the walker to-day, and Louisa was always calling him to her on one
+pretext or another.  It seemed to Alison's jealous eyes that the young
+man did not dislike her too-evident attentions.  He always replied to
+her with courtesy, and, according to Alison, stood by her side longer
+than was necessary.
+
+"I must get that situation in Oxford Street," muttered the girl to
+herself.  "I shall feel fit to kill those two if ever they are wed, and
+the further I am off the better."
+
+Her angry and excited feelings gave her courage, and she was able to
+ask a comparative stranger--a girl who scarcely knew her--if she could
+see Mr. Shaw.
+
+"I am afraid you cannot to-day," was the reply.  "The manager is too
+busy, but if you like to call again----"
+
+"No, no, I see him there.  I'll ask him myself," was the reply.
+
+"Lor', what cheek!" muttered the new shop-girl; but Alison was too far
+away to hear her.
+
+She had approached Mr. Shaw as he was wishing one of his customers "A
+Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."  He turned round with a smile on
+his lips.  Things were doing remarkably well, and he could afford to be
+cheerful.  Suddenly his rather staring, bloodshot eyes encountered the
+full gaze of Alison's clear blue ones.
+
+"Eh, Miss Reed?" he said, stepping back in astonishment.
+
+"Yes, sir; can I speak to you?" said Alison.
+
+"Certainly, my dear, certainly; come this way.  She has found out who
+the thief is, and will come back once more," muttered the manager to
+himself.  "She's the best and most attractive shopwoman I ever had; she
+shall come back immediately after Christmas."
+
+He hurried Alison through the shop into his own little counting-house.
+He shut the door then, and asked her to seat herself.
+
+"How are you?" he said, fixing his eyes with a sort of coarse
+admiration on her face.  "You have got at the truth of this miserable
+matter, have you not?  Now, I wonder who the thief is, eh?  Well, all I
+can say is this: I am right glad that you know.  We miss you, Miss
+Reed, in the shop.  Your services have been of great value to us.  I
+shall have the person who took that money prosecuted; there's not the
+least doubt about that.  Your character will be abundantly cleared, and
+you can resume your post here immediately after the Christmas holidays."
+
+"I thought," said Alison, "that you had got someone else to fill my
+place."
+
+"So I have, so I have--that Jenkins girl--the daughter of poor Tom
+Jenkins, who died in the autumn; but, bless you, she's no good; she
+don't even know the meaning of drawing on a customer!  You see, Miss
+Reed, I don't mean to flatter you, but you have got the tact, and just
+when the sales are beginning you will be invaluable.  I can offer you a
+percentage on all the remnants you dispose of.  Come, now, that's a
+bargain; you'll be right welcome back.  You have got tact, and if I may
+be allowed to say so--_looks_."
+
+Here the manager gave Alison another broad stare.
+
+"By the way, who is the thief?" he continued.
+
+"You quite misunderstand me, sir," said Alison.  "I have not found the
+thief--I have not the faintest idea who stole that money; I only know
+that I did not, and that nothing will induce me to set foot again in
+this shop as one of the staff until I am cleared."
+
+"Then, my good girl, may I ask what in the world you are wasting my
+time for?"
+
+He approached the door of his tiny counting-house, and half opened it
+as he spoke.
+
+"One minute, sir, please.  Although I cannot of course come here, I
+naturally want to get another situation."
+
+"I dare say; but that is not my affair."
+
+"Oh, yes, please, sir, it is!  I have just heard of a very good post in
+Oxford Street.  I saw the manager this morning, and he said that he
+would give me the situation if you could recommend me.  Will you, sir;
+will you give me a character, Mr. Shaw?"
+
+"You have cheek," said Shaw, in a deliberate voice.  "Do you suppose I
+am going to recommend a thief?"
+
+"But, oh, sir, oh, Mr. Shaw, you know I am not that!"
+
+"I don't know anything of the kind; I only know that you are a brazen,
+unreasonable hussy.  You know perfectly well that when you left here
+you forfeited your character.  Yes, your attitude, let me tell you,
+Miss Reed, cuts both ways.  If you don't choose to come here until you
+are cleared, I don't give you a character until you are cleared.  Come,
+now, that's a fair bargain, is it not?"
+
+"Oh, sir, it is so hard of you!" said Alison.  "Sir, if you would but
+be merciful!"
+
+"That's my last word," said Shaw.  "I must go back to attend to my
+customers."
+
+He left the counting-house abruptly, and Alison did not take long in
+following his example.
+
+"It is no good, Grannie," she said, when she entered her little home
+half an hour afterward.  "Shaw is as hard as a millstone.  He won't
+give me a character until I am cleared; and, as I never shall be
+cleared, why, I'll never get a character, and I cannot get a situation.
+What is to become of me, Grannie; oh, Grannie, what is to become of me?"
+
+At these words Alison gave way to the most terrible, overpowering
+grief.  She did not know how to comfort Grannie, but Grannie knew how
+to comfort her.  She patted her as if she were a baby; she stroked her
+soft hair, and kissed her hot cheeks, and laid her head on her own
+little shoulder, and made tea, although the supply in the caddy was
+getting very low, and then talked to her as she knew how, and with
+wonderful cunning and power of Jim, Jim, Jim.
+
+As Alison loved Jim this subject could not but be of interest to her.
+
+"There's no other way out of it," said Grannie finally.  "He is yer
+sweetheart, faithful and true--he don't suspect you; he never will
+suspect you.  You whisper 'yes' to him on Christmas night, dearie, and
+don't wait for next Tuesday.  It's the right thing to do, it's the only
+right thing to do."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+On Christmas Eve, Grannie went out and stayed away for about an hour.
+She looked mysterious when she came back.  She wore her zebra-pattern
+shawl, which was quite bulged out with parcels.  These she conveyed
+quickly into her bedroom, notwithstanding the devouring eyes which the
+children cast upon them.
+
+"Out of that," she said, pushing them all aside; "none of your
+curiosity, or you'll get nothing.  What right have you to suppose as
+I'm agoin' to waste my money a-giving presents to little brats like
+you?  Now, out of the way, out of the way.  For goodness' sake Polly,
+set down and finish stoning 'em raisins.  Annie, is that a currant I
+see in yer mouth, you bad, greedy girl?  I'll whack you, as sure as my
+name's Grannie."
+
+Then Grannie disappeared into her room and locked the door amid the
+screams of excitement and laughter of the happy children.  "I am an old
+fool to do it," she said to herself, trembling a good deal, for somehow
+she had been feeling very weak the last few days; the constant pain and
+anxiety had told upon her.  "I am an old fool to spend seven and
+sixpence on nothing at all but gimcracks to put into the Christmas
+stockings; but there, I must see 'em happy once again--I must--I will.
+Afterwards there'll be a dark time, I know; but on Christmas Day it
+shall be all light--all light, and cheerfulness, and trust, for the
+sake of the dear Lord wot was born a babe in Bethlehem."
+
+Grannie very carefully deposited her parcels in the old-fashioned
+bureau which stood in the corner of the tiny bedroom.  She locked it up
+and put the key in her pocket, and returned to the little sitting room.
+
+Alison was busy trimming her party dress.  She had a party dress, and
+quite a stylish one.  It was made of pink nun's-veiling, which she had
+got very cheap as a bargain at Shaw's when the summer sale was over.
+The dress was made simply, quite high to the throat, with long sleeves,
+but the plain skirt and rather severe-looking bodice, with its frill of
+lace round the throat and wrists, gave Alison that curiously refined,
+ladylike appearance which was so rare in her station of life.  She had
+a sort of natural instinct which kept her from overdressing, and she
+always looked the picture of neatness.  She was furbishing up the lace
+on the dress now, and Polly was seated by the little table stoning the
+raisins for the Christmas pudding, and gazing with admiration at her
+sister all the while.  The Christmas bustle and sense of festivity
+which Grannie had insisted on bringing into the air, infected everyone.
+Even Alison felt rather cheerful; as she trimmed up the old dress she
+kept singing a merry tune.  If it was her bounden duty to marry Jim--to
+return the great love he bore her--to be his faithful and true
+wife--then all the calamity of the last few days would be past.  Good
+luck would once more shine upon her.  Once again she would be the
+happiest of the happy.
+
+"Oh, yes, I love him!" she murmured to herself.  "I love him better
+every day, every hour, every minute; he is all the world to me.  I
+think of him all day long, and dream of him all through the night.  I
+could be good for him.  If he is strong enough and great enough to get
+over the fact of my being accused of theft, why, I'll take him; yes,
+I'll take him.  It will make Grannie happy too.  Poor old Grannie! she
+don't look too well the last day or two.  It is wonderful, but I think
+she is fretting sore about that feather-stitching.  Poor dear! she
+thinks more of that feather-stitching than of most anything else in the
+world; but, Lor' bless her, they'll soon be putting something else in
+its place in the West End shops.  The feather-stitching will be
+old-fashioned beside the embroidery.  Poor old Grannie, it is hard on
+her!"
+
+By this time the tea hour had arrived.  Alison took her dress into her
+little bedroom, laid it on the bed, and came back to help to get ready
+the family meal.  David and Harry both came noisily upstairs to partake
+of it.  They were going out immediately afterward to the boys' club,
+and told Grannie that they would not be back to supper.
+
+"There are going to be real high jinks at the club to-night," said
+Harry; "a magic lantern and a conjurer, and afterward we are to play
+leapfrog and billiards, and end up with a boxing match.  That swell,
+Mr. Rolfe, is the right sort.  Anyone would think that he had known
+boys from this part of the world all his days."
+
+"Boys is boys all the world over," said Grannie; "be they rich or poor,
+high or low, they are just the same--mischeevous, restless young
+wagabones.  Now then, Harry, for goodness gracious, don't spill your
+tea on the cloth.  My word! wot a worry you all are."
+
+"You know you don't think so, Grannie," said the audacious boy.  His
+black eyes laughed into her blue ones; she gave him a smile into which
+she threw her whole brave heart.  He remembered that smile in the dark
+days which were to follow.
+
+Tea was over, and presently Alison went into her room to dress.  She
+did not intend putting in an appearance at the Clays' before nine
+o'clock, and she told Grannie not to sit up for her.  Of course Jim
+would see her home.  It occurred to her, and her heart beat faster at
+the thought, that she might be able to give Jim his final answer on her
+way home; if so, what a glorious Christmas present would be hers.
+Accordingly, as she dressed her hair she sang a cheerful little song
+under her breath.  Grannie heard her in the kitchen, paused with her
+finger on her lip, and enjoined silence for a moment, and then smiled
+in a very heart-whole manner.
+
+"To be sure," she murmured to herself "the will of the Lord seems full
+o' mercy to-night.  Wot do it matter about an old body like me, ef
+things go right for the children?  Oh, good Lord, I commit these
+children to thy care; do for 'em wot is right, and don't trouble about
+an old body.  I don't count; I know my place is safe enough for me in
+the Kingdom.  I need not fret about wot is left for this world."
+
+When Alison came out of her room, looking beautiful, and fifty times
+too good for the company she was to be with, Grannie gave her a kiss,
+which was so full of gladness and meaning as to be almost solemn.
+
+"And Jim will see you home," said the old lady.  "Oh, yes, yes!"
+
+"To be sure; but don't sit up, Grannie," said Alison.
+
+"I won't ef you don't wish it, love.  You'll find the key under the
+mat; now go off, and a Christmas blessin' with you."
+
+Alison departed, and soon afterward the younger children were hustled
+off to bed.  They were very much excited, and did not at all wish to
+retire at this comparatively early hour, but Grannie was peremptory.
+She had plenty of work to do after the rogues were asleep, she
+murmured.  So off to bed they went, with a couple of raisins each by
+way of comfort; and when she thought they were snoring she slipped
+softly into her room to fetch the brown paper parcels, and the long
+woolen stockings which year after year had done duty for the Santa
+Claus gifts.  If she suspected it, she took good care not to look;
+nevertheless, the fact remains that the three little snorers did open
+their eyes for a brief moment, and did see the parcels going out, and
+the stockings following them, and then turned round to hug each other
+in an ecstacy of bliss.  On this occasion Alison's companion slept with
+her two sisters, and they kept up a little chatter, like birds in a
+nest, for quite five minutes after Grannie had left them.  She heard
+them, of course,--for every sound could be heard in the little
+flat,--but she took no notice.
+
+"Bless 'em, how happy they are!" she said to herself.  "Bless the Lord,
+oh, my soul.  I do declare there's a sight o' good to be got out of
+life, writers' cramp or not.  Now, then, to open these parcels."
+
+The parcels when opened produced a wonderful array of cheap workboxes,
+needle-cases, pin-trays, ornamental pens, boxes full of bon-bons, penny
+whistles, twopenny flutes, a Jew's-harp or two; in short, a medley of
+every kind of heterogeneous presents which could be produced with the
+modest sum of from a penny to twopence halfpenny.  Grannie fully
+believed in numbers.  She knew from past experience that the children
+would rather have half a dozen small things than one big thing.  The
+worsted stockings, too, which had been knit in a bygone age, by the
+celebrated Mrs. Simpson, the inventor of the sprig, were deep and long.
+They took a great deal of filling, and Grannie knew what keen
+disappointment would be the result if each stocking was not chock-full.
+She collected her wares, sorted them into six parcels, laid the six
+stockings on the table by the side of the gifts, and then began to
+select the most appropriate gifts for each.  Yes; Alison should have
+the little basket which contained the pretty thimble, the little plush
+pin-cushion glued on at one corner, and two reels of cotton kept in
+their place by a neat little band, and the needle-book at the opposite
+side.
+
+"This is the werry nattiest thing I have seen for many a day," murmured
+Grannie, "and only tuppence three farthings.  I'll take the price off,
+of course.  Now, suppose Ally comes back an engaged girl, could she
+have anything prettier than this little basket?  It shall go in the top
+of the stocking, jest where it can peep out and look at her the first
+thing in the morning."
+
+The stockings were filled at last; the toes and heels dexterously
+stuffed out with apples and oranges; the gifts following next--each
+separate gift wrapped in paper, and tied neatly with string.
+
+"Quite half the fun is in the untying of the string," thought Mrs.
+Reed.  "Oh, how the little 'earts will go pitter-patter!  Don't I know
+it myself?  Why, when I were nothing more than a five-year-old Phipps,
+I remember as well as possible taking my presents out of this werry
+stocking, and trembling all over when I couldn't untie the knot of the
+parcel which held that cock made of sugar, wot I kept on the
+chimney-piece for many and many a day afterward; for though mother give
+it to me, she wouldn't let me eat it."
+
+The six stockings were filled, and each stocking hung at the foot of
+its future owner's bed.  The children were sound asleep now, and the
+boys at the club, and the girl at her party forgot all about such a
+trivial thing as poor old Santa Claus and his stocking, but Grannie was
+very thankful that the stockings should hang at the foot of the beds
+for the last time.  When all was done and the kitchen made as neat as a
+new pin she fell on her knees and uttered a short prayer--a prayer
+which was more praise than prayer.  She then got into bed, and quickly
+fell asleep; for she was very tired, and, wonderful to say, her hand
+and arm did not ache as much as usual.
+
+Not far away was Tragedy coming to meet her with quick strides, but the
+little woman was under the shadow of God's wing to-night, and had
+neither fear nor trouble.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+When Alison arrived at the Clays' the fun was in full swing.  The house
+was crowded--not only the long sitting room, but the little hall, and a
+good way up the stairs.  A stage had been erected at one end of the
+sitting room; on this stage now the actors were disporting themselves.
+As Alison had not arrived in time for supper, no one took any notice of
+her when she appeared.  She found that it was quite impossible to hope
+to get a corner, either to sit or stand, in the room where the acting
+was going on.  She had, therefore, to content herself with leaning up
+against the wall in the passage, and now and then bending forward so as
+to see the one person about whom she was the least interested--Jim
+himself.
+
+The play was a very poor affair, and consisted of several short scenes
+acted in the style of charades, with impromptu conversations, which
+mostly consisted of coarse jests and innuendoes; but the loud laughter
+of the spectators assured Alison that this style of thing was quite up
+to their level.  She felt rather sickened at Jim's taking part in
+anything so commonplace; but her love for him, which grew daily, gave
+her a certain sense of rest and happiness at even being in his
+vicinity.  He did not know she was there, but that mattered little or
+nothing.  When the play was over he would come out and see her, and
+then everything would be smooth and delightful.  She forgot to be
+jealous of Louisa; she even forgot the fact that a few short weeks ago
+she had been publicly accused of theft; she only knew that she wore her
+best frock; she was only conscious that she looked her best and
+brightest, that when Jim's eyes did rest upon her he could not but
+acknowledge her charm; she was only well aware that it was Christmas
+Eve, and that all the world was rejoicing.  She stood, therefore, in
+the crowded hall with a smiling face, her hands lightly, clasped in
+front of her, her thoughts full of peace, and yet stimulated to a
+certain excited joy.
+
+Between the acts people began to go in and out of the large sitting
+room, and on these occasions Alison was jostled about a good bit.  She
+was quite pushed up against the stairs, and had some difficulty in
+keeping her balance.  She saw a man stare at her with a very coarse
+sort of admiration.  She did not know the man, and she shrank from his
+gaze; but the next moment she saw him speaking to a girl who she knew
+belonged to Shaw's establishment.  The girl's reply came distinctly to
+her ears.
+
+"Yes, I suppose she is pretty enough," she said.  "We always spoke of
+her as genteel at Shaw's.  Oh, you want to know her name, Mr. Manners?
+Her name is Alison Reed.  She left Shaw's because she stole a
+five-pound note.  It was awfully good of him not to prosecute her."
+
+"That girl a thief!" said the man who was addressed as Manners.  "I
+don't believe it."
+
+"Oh, but she is!  She was in such a fright that she left the shop the
+very day she was accused.  That shows guilt--don't it, now?"
+
+Alison could not hear Manners' reply, but after a time, the sharp voice
+of the girl again reached her ears.
+
+"They do say as Jim Hardy, our foreman, was sweet on her, but of course
+he has given her up now; he is all agog for Louisa Clay, the girl he is
+acting with to-night.  They say they are sweethearts, and they'll be
+married early in the year.  It is a very good match for him, for Louisa
+has lots of money and----"
+
+The speakers moved on, and Alison could not catch another word.  She
+had gained a comfortable position for herself now, and was leaning
+firmly against the wall.  The words which had reached her she fully and
+completely realized.  She was accustomed to being considered a thief;
+she always would be considered a thief until that five-pound note was
+found.  It was very painful, it was bitter to be singled out in that
+way, to have attention drawn to her as such a character; but the words
+which related to Jim she absolutely laughed at.  Was not Jim her own
+faithful lover?  Would he not see her home to-night, believing in her
+fully and entirely?  Oh, yes.  Whatever the world at large thought of
+her, she was good enough for Jim.  Yes, yes.  She would promise to be
+his to-night, she would not wait until next Tuesday.  What was the good
+of pushing happiness away when it came so close?  A cup full of such
+luck was not offered to every girl.  She would drink it up; she would
+enjoy it to the full.  Then envious and malicious tongues would have to
+be quiet, for she would prove by her engagement that Jim, at least,
+believed in her.  She drew up her head proudly as this thought came to
+her.
+
+The next act in the noisy little play was just beginning, and those who
+cared for seats in the room were pushing forward; the crowd in the
+passage was therefore less oppressive.  Alison moved forward a step or
+two, and stood in such a position that she was partly sheltered by a
+curtain.  She had scarcely done so before, to her great astonishment,
+Hardy and Louisa came out.  They stood together for a moment or two in
+the comparatively deserted passage.  Other characters occupied the
+stage for the time being, and Louisa was glad to get into the
+comparatively fresh air to cool herself.
+
+"Oh, aint it hot?" she said.  "Fan me," she added, offering Jim a huge
+fan gaudily painted in many colors.
+
+She unfurled it as she spoke, and put it into his hand.
+
+"Make a breeze o' some sort," she said; "do, or I'll faint!"
+
+Jim looked pleased and excited.  He was fantastically dressed in the
+stage costume in which he had shortly to appear.  Alison, partly
+sheltered by the curtain, could see well without being seen herself.
+
+"The play is going splendid, Jim," said Louisa.  "I'm ever so pleased."
+
+"I am glad of that," replied Jim.
+
+"I thought you would be.  Well, I do feel a happy girl to-night."
+
+"And when is it to be?" said Jim, bending down and looking earnestly
+into her face.
+
+She flushed when he spoke to her, and immediately lowered her eyes.
+
+"I aint made up my mind quite yet," she said.
+
+"But you will?" he replied, in a voice full of solicitude.
+
+"I don't know.  Would it please you if I did?"
+
+"I needn't say that it would," was the reply.  "I think it would make
+me real happy."
+
+"Well, ef I thought that----"
+
+Louisa took her fan out of Jim Hardy's hand and began to toy with it in
+a somewhat affected manner.  Then her expression changed to one of
+absolute passion.
+
+"I don't think there is anything in heaven above, or the earth beneath,
+I wouldn't do, Jim Hardy, even to please you for half an hour; to
+please you is the light of life to me.  So, if you wish it, let it
+be--there!  I can't say any more, can I?"
+
+"You can't; you have said enough," he replied gravely.  "There is our
+call," he added; "we must go back.  Are you cooler now?"
+
+"Much cooler, thanks to you."
+
+The call came a second time.  Louisa hurried forward; Jim followed her.
+Neither of them noticed the listening girl behind the curtain.  The
+next moment loud cheers filled the room as Hardy and Louisa took their
+places side by side in the front of the stage.
+
+Alison waited until the great uproar had subsided, then she slipped
+into the dressing room where she had gone on her arrival, put on her
+hat and jacket steadily and calmly, and went home.  She had no
+intention now of waiting for Jim.  She never meant to wait for Jim any
+more.  He was false as no man had ever been false before.  She would
+forget him, she would drive him out of her life.  He had dared to come
+and talk of marriage to her when he really loved another girl; he had
+dared to give her words of tenderness when his heart was with Louisa
+Clay.
+
+"It is all over," whispered Alison quite quietly under her breath.
+
+She wondered, in a dull sort of fashion, why she felt so quiet; why she
+did not suffer a great deal more; why the sense of disappointment and
+cruel desertion did not break her heart.  She was sure that by and by
+her heart would awaken, and pain--terrible, intense pain would be her
+portion; but just now she felt quiet and stunned.  She was glad of
+this.  It was Christmas Eve, but Jim was not walking home with her.
+The Christmas present she had hoped for was not to be hers.  Well,
+never mind, to-morrow would be Christmas Day.  Jim was invited to
+dinner, to that good dinner which Grannie had no right to buy, but
+which Grannie had bought to give the children one last happy day.
+Alison herself had made the cake and had frosted it, and Alison herself
+had stirred the pudding, and had thought of Jim's face as it would look
+when he sat with the children round the family board.  He would never
+sit there now; she must never see him again.  She would write to him
+the moment she got in, and then, having put him out of her life once
+and for ever, she would help Grannie to keep the Merry Christmas.
+
+She walked up the weary number of steps to the flat on the fifth floor.
+She found the key under the mat, and then went in.  Grannie had left
+everything ready for her.  Grannie had thought of a betrothed maiden
+who would enter the little house with the air of a queen who had come
+suddenly into her kingdom.  Grannie, who was sound asleep at this
+moment, had no idea that Despair itself was coming home in the last
+hours just before the blessed Christmas broke.  Alison opened the door
+very softly, and, going into the kitchen, took down her writing
+portfolio from a little shelf where she generally kept it, and wrote a
+short letter to Jim.
+
+
+"Dear Jim: I have made up my mind, and in this letter you will get your
+final answer.  I will not marry anybody until I am cleared of this
+trouble about the five-pound note; and whether I am cleared or not, I
+shall never marry you, _for I don't love you_.  I found out to-night it
+was all a mistake, and what I thought was love was not.  I don't love
+you, Jim, and I never wish to see you again.  Please don't come to
+dinner to-morrow, and please don't ever try to see me.  This is final.
+I don't love you; that is your answer.
+
+"ALISON REED."
+
+
+Having signed the letter in a very firm hand, Alison put it into an
+envelope, addressed and stamped it.  She then went out and dropped it
+into a pillar-box near by.  Jim would get it on Christmas morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+Christmas Day went by.  It was quiet enough, although the children
+shouted with glee over their stockings and ate their dinner heartily.
+There was a depressed feeling under all the mirth, although Alison wore
+her very best dress and laughed and sang, and in the evening played
+blindman's buff with the children.  There was a shadow over the home,
+although Grannie talked quietly in the corner of the Blessed Prince of
+Peace, and of the true reason for Christmas joy.  Jim's place was
+empty, but no one remarked it.  The children were too happy to miss
+him, and the elder members of the party were too wise to say what they
+really felt.
+
+Boxing Day was almost harder to bear than Christmas Day.  Alison stayed
+quietly in the house all the morning, but toward the afternoon she grew
+restless.
+
+"Dave," she said, "will you and Harry come for a walk with me?"
+
+"To be sure," answered both the boys, brightening up.  The little girls
+clamored to accompany them.
+
+"No, no," said Grannie, "you'll stay with me.  I have a job on hand,
+and I want you to help me.  It is tearing up old letters, and putting
+lots of things in order.  And maybe I'll give you a chocolate each when
+it is done."
+
+The promise of the chocolates was comforting, and the little ones
+stayed at home not ill pleased.  Alison went out with her two brothers.
+She held herself very erect, and there was a proud look on her face.
+She had never looked handsomer nor more a lady.  David felt very proud
+of her.  He did not understand her just now, it is true, but he was
+pleased when people turned round to look at her; and when admiring
+glances came in her way, he walked close to her with an air of
+protection, and was glad that his sister was better looking than other
+fellows'.  They all turned their steps in the direction of Victoria
+Park.  They had just got there when quick footsteps overtook them, and
+Jim Hardy came up.
+
+"Hullo," he said, when he approached the little party.  "Stop, can't
+you?  I have been running after you all this time."
+
+David and Harry both stopped, but Alison walked on.
+
+"That's all right," said Jim, nodding to the boys.  "You stay back a
+bit, won't you, like good fellows?  I want to have a talk with your
+sister."
+
+Harry felt inclined to demur, for he was fond of Jim, and his own
+pleasure always was first with him; but David understood, and gripped
+his brother's arm fiercely, holding him back.
+
+"Keep back," he said, in a whisper; "can't you see for yourself that
+there's trouble there?"
+
+"Trouble where?" said Harry, opening his eyes.
+
+"You are a muff.  Can't you see that something has put Alison out?"
+
+"I can see that she is very disagreeable," said Harry.  "I suppose she
+is in love, that's what it means.  She is in love with Jim Hardy.  But
+he is going to marry Louisa Clay; everybody says so."
+
+"Shut up," said David.  "You are a silly.  Hardy thinks no more of
+Louisa than he does of you."
+
+"Well, let us make for the pond and leave them alone," said Harry.  "I
+do believe the ice will bear in a day or two."
+
+The boys rushed off to the right, and Alison and Jim walked down the
+broad center path.  Alison's heart was beating wildly.  The love which
+she was trying to slay rose up like a giant in her heart.
+
+"But I won't show it," thought the proud girl to herself.  "He shall
+never, never think that I fret because he has thrown me over for
+another.  If, loving me, he could care for Louisa, he is not my sort.
+No, I won't fret, no, I won't; I'll show him that I don't care."
+
+"I'm glad I met you," said Jim.  Jim was a very proud fellow, too, in
+his own way.  Alison's queer letter had pierced him to the quick.  Not
+having the faintest clew to her reason for writing it, he was feeling
+justly very angry.
+
+"I didn't come in yesterday," he continued, "when you made it so plain
+that you didn't want me; but, all the same, I felt that we must talk
+this matter out."
+
+"There's nothing to talk out," said Alison.  "You knew my mind when you
+got that letter, and that's about all I've got to say."
+
+"That letter was a lie from first to last," said Jim boldly.
+
+Alison turned and looked full at him.  Her face was white.  Her big
+blue eyes blazed and looked dark.
+
+"The letter was true," she said.  "Girls can't help being contrary now
+and then.  I don't want to see you again, I don't want to have anything
+to do with you.  I made a mistake when I said I loved you.  I found out
+just in time that I didn't.  It was a right good thing I found it out
+before we was wed, instead of afterwards; I did, and we are safe, and
+you can give yourself, heart and soul, with a clear conscience, to
+another."
+
+"I can't make out what you are driving at," said Jim.  "You know
+perfectly well, Alison, that I love no one in all the world but
+yourself."
+
+"Oh! don't you?" said Alison.
+
+"Really, Ally, you will drive me mad if you go on talking in that
+unreasonable way.  Of course I don't care for anyone but you, and you
+always gave me to understand that you returned my love.  Come, darlin',
+what is it?  You must know that after all you have said to me in the
+past, I can't believe that letter of yours; it is all against common
+sense.  People can't love and then unlove in that sort o' fashion.
+Tell me the truth, Ally.  Something made you angry; and you love me as
+much as ever, don't you, darlin'?  Come, let us make it up.  There is
+something at the bottom of this, and you ought to tell me.  As to your
+not loving me, that is all fudge, you know."
+
+Alison's heart, which had lain so dead in her breast, began suddenly to
+stir and dance with a queer excitement.  After all, had she made a
+mistake?  Was Jim really faithful to her after all?  But, no; how could
+she mistake?  She had heard the words herself.  Oh, yes, of course, Jim
+was false; and for all he had such an honest voice, and the truest eyes
+in all the world, Alison must turn her back on him, for she could not
+doubt the hearing of her own ears and the seeing of her own eyes.
+
+"I am sorry," she said, in a cold voice, when Jim had paused and looked
+eagerly for her answer.  "I am sorry, but after all it is a pity that
+we met to-day, for my letter really told you everything.  I don't love
+you.  You wouldn't marry a girl what didn't love you; would you, Jim?"
+
+"No, no," said Jim; "no marriage could be happy, it would be a cruel
+mistake, without love.  It seems to me that marriage is a sin, an awful
+sin, if there aint love to make it beautiful."
+
+"Well, then, it would be a sin for us to marry," said Alison.  "You can
+see that for yourself.  You need have no scruples, Jim; you can do what
+you wish."
+
+"Well, that is to marry you," said Jim.  "Come, Ally, there is a
+strange thing over you, my dearie, but show me your true self once
+again.  Come, darlin'.  Why, you are going nigh to break my heart, the
+way you are going on."
+
+For a moment Alison's belief in what she had herself seen was staggered
+by Jim's words and the ring of pain in his voice, but only for a
+moment.  The thought of Louisa and the tender way he had looked at her,
+and her bold words of passion, were too vivid to be long suppressed.
+Alison's voice took a note of added scorn as she replied:
+
+"It's real shabby o' you to worry me when I have given you a straight
+answer.  I don't love you, not a bit, but there's another girl what
+does.  Go to her--go and be happy with her."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Jim, turning pale.
+
+Alison's eyes were fixed angrily on him.
+
+"Oh, I see, I can move you at last," she Said.  "You didn't think that
+I could guess, but I can.  Go to Louisa--she loves you well, and I
+don't--I never did--it was all a big mistake.  Girls like me often
+fancy they love, and then when the thing comes near they see that they
+don't; marriage is an awful thing without love--it is a sin.  Go and
+marry Louisa; she'll make you a good wife."
+
+"Alison," said Jim, "there can be only one explanation to the way you
+are going on to-day."
+
+"And what is that?" she asked.
+
+"There must be someone you like better than me."
+
+"Of course there is," said Alison, with a shrill laugh.
+
+"I love Grannie better than him.  I love Dave better," whispered the
+excited girl wildly, under her breath.
+
+"Of course there is," she repeated.  "There is nothing for opening the
+eyes like seeing your true love at last."
+
+"Then you _have_ explained matters, and I haven't a word to say,"
+answered Jim, in a haughty voice.
+
+He drew himself up,--his eyes looked straight into hers,--she shivered,
+but did not flinch; the next moment he had turned on his heels and
+walked away.
+
+He walked quickly, leaving the miserable, distracted girl alone.  He
+thought he understood at last; Alison had another lover.  Who could he
+be?  Jim had certainly never heard of anybody else.  Still, this was
+the true explanation--she had admitted as much herself.
+
+"Go to Louisa Clay--she loves you well," the angry girl had said to him.
+
+Well, why should not he go to Louisa?  Louisa was not his style, but
+she was handsome, and she had a good bit of money, and he had guessed
+long ago that she loved him.  He did not want to hear of Alison's new
+lover, and of Alison's engagement, and of Alison's marriage without
+putting some shield between himself and the bitter words that would be
+spoken, and the laugh that would be all against him.  He was proud as
+well as steadfast; he was daring as well as true.  If Alison could give
+him up as she had done, why should he not take the lesser good?  It was
+true that Louisa had admitted, or almost admitted, her engagement to
+Sampson, which was really the wedding poor Jim had alluded to on
+Christmas Eve; but Jim knew that matters were not settled in that
+direction yet, and he was too angry just now not to feel a keen desire
+to cut Sampson out.  He went straight, therefore, to the Clays' house.
+His heart was just in that sort of tempest of feeling when men so often
+take a rash step and lay up misery for themselves for the whole of
+their remaining days.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Clay were out, but Louisa was at home; she had a cold, and
+had not cared to venture out in the raw December air.  Jim was shown
+into a snug little parlor at the back of the shop.  Louisa was
+becomingly dressed, and looked remarkably handsome.  She started with
+pleasure when she saw Jim, colored up to her eyes, and then noticing
+something which she had never noticed before in his glance, looked
+down, trembling and overcome.  At that moment her love made her
+beautiful.  Jim saw it trembling on her lips.  The reaction between her
+warmth and Alison's frozen manner was too much for him; he made a
+stride forward, and the next moment had taken her in his arms; his
+kisses rested on her lips.  She gave a sigh of ineffable bliss.
+
+"Oh, Jim!" she said, "has it come to this?  Am I to have my heart's
+desire after all?"
+
+"If I am your heart's desire, you can have me, and welcome," answered
+Jim.
+
+"Oh, Jim!  I love you so much.  I am the happiest gel in all the world.
+Kiss me again, do.  Oh, how I love you!"
+
+"My dear girl," said the young man.
+
+He did not say yet that he loved her back again, but his heart was
+beating high.  At that moment he was not proof against her beauty,
+which in its own way was remarkable.
+
+"Then we're engaged," she said.  "Oh, Jim, is it true that such
+happiness is come to me?  I feel sort o' frightened.  I never, never
+thought that such good could come to me."
+
+"We're engaged, that is if we can be straight and above-board,"
+answered Jim; "but first I must know what about Sampson.  He has asked
+you to be his wife, hasn't he?"
+
+"Yes, yes.  Oh, don't trouble about him.  Sit close to me, can't you,
+and kiss me again."
+
+"I must know about Sampson first," said Jim.  "Have you given him a
+promise?"
+
+"Not yet, I don't love him a bit, you see; but when I thought you'd
+never come forward, and that all your heart was given to Alison
+Reed----"
+
+Jim shuddered and drew himself away from Louisa.
+
+"I thought," she continued, "that George Sampson would be better than
+nobody, so I told him he might come for his answer to-night, and he'll
+get it too.  He always knew that I loved yer.  Why, he even said so.
+He said to me, not a week ago, 'You can't win him, Louisa, so don't
+waste your breath on him, but come to an honest fellow what loves yer,
+and who don't think nothing of any other gel.'"
+
+"But doesn't it seem hard on the honest fellow?" said Jim, with a smile.
+
+"Oh, no, it don't!  Do you think I'd look at him after what you have
+said?  Oh, I'm so happy!  Sit by me, and tell me when you first thought
+of throwing over Alison Reed for me?"
+
+"Listen," said Jim.  "There is nothing now between Alison and me.  I'll
+try to make you a good mate; I will try to do everything to make you
+happy, and to give you back love for love; but if you value our future
+happiness, you must make me a promise now."
+
+"What's that?" she asked, looking up at him, frightened at the
+solemnity in his tone.
+
+"You must never talk of Alison to me.  Promise, do you hear?"
+
+"Oh, why not?  You can't care for her a bit, or you wouldn't come to
+me."
+
+"I like you most--I wouldn't ask you to marry me if I didn't; but I
+won't talk of Alison.  If you can't have me without bringing up her
+name, say so at once, and everything shall be at an end between us.
+Now you have got to choose.  Alison's name is not to pass yer lips to
+me.  We are not to talk of her, do you understand?  Do you promise?"
+
+"I promise anything--anything, if you will only kiss me again."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+The next day it was all over the place that Jim Hardy and Louisa Clay
+were engaged.  Harry heard the news as he was coming home from doing a
+message for Grannie; Grannie heard it when she went shopping; Alison
+heard it from the boy who sold the milk--in short, this little bit of
+tidings of paramount interest in Alison's small world was dinned into
+her ears wherever she turned.  Jim was engaged.  His friends thought
+that he had done very well for himself, and it was arranged that the
+wedding was to take place just before Lent.  Lent would fall early this
+year, and Jim's engagement would not last much over six weeks.
+
+Notwithstanding all she had said the day before, Alison turned very
+pale when the cruel news came to her.
+
+"What can it mean?" said Grannie, who followed the girl into her
+bedroom.  "I don't understand it--there must be an awful mistake
+somewhere.  You can't, surely, have thrown over a good fellow like
+that, Alison?"
+
+"No, he threw me over," said Alison.
+
+"Child, I jest don't believe yer."
+
+"All right, Grannie; I'm afraid I can't help it whether you believe me
+or not.  Jim is dead to me now, and we won't talk of him any more.
+Grannie dear, let us go into the kitchen; you and I have something else
+to attend to.  What is to come o' me?  What am I to do for myself now
+that I can't get a situation for want of a character, and now that I
+have lost my young man?"
+
+Alison laughed in a bitter way as she said the last words.  She looked
+straight out of the window, and avoided meeting Grannie's clear blue
+eyes.
+
+"I must get something to do," said Alison.  "I am young, and strong,
+and capable, and the fact of having a false charge laid to my door
+can't mean surely that I am to starve.  I must get work, Grannie; I
+must learn to support myself and the children.  Oh, and you, you dear
+old lady; for you can't do much, now that your 'and is so bad."
+
+"It do get worse," said Grannie, in a solemn voice; "it pains and burns
+awful now and then, and the thumb and forefinger are next to
+useless--they aint got any power in 'em.  'Taint like my usual luck,
+that it aint.  I can't understand it anyhow.  But there, child, for the
+Lord's sake don't worry about an old body like me.  Thank the Lord for
+his goodness, I am at the slack time o' life, and I don't want no
+thought and little or no care.  I aint the p'int--it's you that's the
+p'int, Ally--you and the chil'en."
+
+"Well, what is to be done, grandmother?  It seems to me that we have
+not a day to lose.  We never could save much, there was too great a
+drag on your earnings, and mine seemed swept up by rent and twenty
+other things, and now neither you nor I have been earning anything for
+weeks.  We can't have much money left now, have we?"
+
+"We have got one pound ten," said Grannie.  "I looked at the purse this
+morning.  One pound ten, and sevenpence ha'penny in coppers; that's
+all.  That wouldn't be a bad sum if there was anythink more coming in;
+but seeing as ther' aint, it is uncommon likely to dwindle, look at it
+from what p'int you may."
+
+"Well, then, we haven't an hour to lose," said Alison.
+
+"We haven't an hour to lose," repeated Grannie.  She looked around the
+little room; her voice was cheerful, but there was a dreary expression
+in her eyes.  Alison noticed it.  She got up and kissed her.
+
+"Don't, child, don't; it aint good to move the feelin's when things is
+a bit rough, as they are now.  We have got to be firm, Alison, and we
+have got to be brave, and there aint no manner o' use drawing on the
+feelin's.  Keep 'em under, say I, and stand straight to your guns.
+It's a tough bit o' battle we're goin' through, but we must stand to
+our guns, that's wot I say."
+
+"And I too," said the girl, stiffening herself under the words of
+courage.  "Well now, I know you are a very wise woman, Grannie; what's
+to be done?"
+
+"I am going to see Mr. Williams, that old clergyman in Bayswater wot
+was so good to me when my husband died.  I am going to see him
+to-morrow," said Grannie.  "Arter I have had a good spell of talk with
+him, I'll tell you more."
+
+"Do you think he could get me a situation?"
+
+"Maybe he could."
+
+"I wish you would go to him at once, Grannie.  There really doesn't
+seem to be a day to be lost."
+
+"What's the hour, child?  I don't mind going to him now, but I thought
+it might be a bit late."
+
+"Not at all; you'll see him when he comes home to dinner.  Shall I go
+with you?  Somehow I pine for a change and a bit of the air."
+
+"No, darlin', I'd best see him by myself, and then there's the bus fare
+to consider; but ef you'd walk with me as far as St. Paul's Churchyard,
+I'd be much obleeged, and you can see me into the bus.  I am werry
+strong, thank the Lord; but somehow, when the crowd jostle and push,
+they seem to take my nerve off--particular since this 'and got so bad."
+
+Grannie went into her little room to get ready for her expedition, and
+Alison also pinned on her hat and buttoned on her pilot-cloth jacket.
+Grannie put on her best clothes for this occasion.  She came out
+equipped for her interview in her neat black shawl and little quilted
+bonnet.  The excitement had brought a bright color to her cheeks and an
+added light to her blue eyes.
+
+"Why, Grannie, how pretty you look," said her granddaughter.  "I
+declare you are the very prettiest old lady I ever saw."
+
+Grannie was accustomed to being told that she was good-looking.  She
+drew herself up and perked her little face.
+
+"The Phippses were always remarked for their skins," she said;
+"beautiful they was, although my poor mother used to say that wot's
+skin-deep aint worth considering.  Still, a good skin is from the Lord,
+and he gave it to the Phippses with other good luck; no mistake on that
+p'int."
+
+The next moment the two set out.  It was certainly getting late in the
+day, but Alison cheered Grannie on, repeating several times in a firm
+and almost defiant manner that there was not an hour to be lost.  They
+got to St. Paul's Churchyard, and Alison helped Grannie to get into an
+omnibus.  The old woman got a seat near the door, and smiled and nodded
+brightly to her granddaughter as the bus rolled away.  Alison went back
+very slowly to her home.  She had a terrible depression over her, and
+longed almost frantically for something to do.  All her life she had
+been a very active girl.  No granddaughter of Mrs. Reed's was likely to
+grow up idle, and Alison, almost from the time she could think, had
+been accustomed to fully occupy each moment of her day.  Now the long
+day dragged, while despair clutched at her heart.  What had she done?
+What sin had she committed to be treated so cruelly?  Grannie was
+religious; she was accustomed to referring things to God.  There was a
+Rock on which her spirit dwelt which Alison knew nothing about.  Now,
+the thought of Grannie and her religion stirred the girl's heart in the
+queerest way.
+
+"I don't do any good," she said to herself; "seems as if the Lord
+didn't care for poor folks, or he wouldn't let all this sort of thing
+come on me.  It aint as if I weren't always respectable; it aint as if
+I didn't always try to do what's right.  Then there's so much bad luck
+jist now come all of a heap: Grannie's bad hand, which means the loss
+of our daily bread, and this false accusation of me, and then my losing
+Jim.  Oh, dear, that's the worst part, but I won't think of that now, I
+won't.  I feel that I could go mad if I thought much of that."
+
+When Alison returned to the flat in Sparrow Street it was in time to
+get tea for the children.  The little larder was becoming sadly bare;
+the Christmas feast was almost all eaten up, and Alison could only
+provide the children with very dry bread, and skim milk largely diluted
+with water.
+
+"Grannie wouldn't treat us like that," said Kitty, who was extremely
+fond of her meals.
+
+"You may be thankful if you even get dry bread soon," said Alison.
+
+The three little girls stared up at her with wondering, terrified eyes.
+Her tone was very morose.  They saw that she was unapproachable, and
+looked down again.  They ate their unpalatable meal quickly, and in
+silence.  Alison kept the kettle boiling on the fire against Grannie's
+return.
+
+"You haven't taken any tea yourself," said Polly, who was Alison's
+room-fellow, and the most affectionate of the three.
+
+"I aint hungry, dear; don't notice it," said the elder sister in a
+somewhat gentler tone.  "Now you may run, all of you, and have a play
+in the court."
+
+"But it's quite dark, and Grannie doesn't like us to be out in the
+dark."
+
+"I don't think she'll mind when I tell her that I gave you leave.  I
+have a splitting headache and must be alone for a bit.  It is a dry
+night, and the three of you keep close together, and then you'll come
+to no harm.  There, run off now, and don't bother me."
+
+Kitty stared hard at her sister; Polly's eyes flashed with pleasure at
+the thought of a bit of unexpected fun; Annie was only too anxious to
+be off.  Soon Alison had the little kitchen to herself.  She sat by the
+fire, feeling very dull and heavy; her thoughts would keep circulating
+round unpleasant subjects: the one pound ten and sevenpence halfpenny
+which stood between the family and starvation; Jim and Louisa--Louisa's
+face full of triumph, and her voice full of pride, and Jim's devotion
+to her; Grannie's painful right hand, and the feather-stitching which
+she, Alison, had never taken the trouble to learn.
+
+"The old lady was right," she said, half under her breath, half aloud.
+"She's a deal wiser than me, and I might have done worse that follow
+her advice.  I wish I knew the stitch now; yes, I do.  Oh! is that you,
+Dave?" as her brother came in; "but we have done tea."
+
+"I have had some," said David.  "Mr. Watson called me into his room,
+and gave me a cup.  What is it, Ally; what's the matter?"
+
+"You needn't ask," said Alison.  "You don't suppose I am likely to be
+very cheerful just now."
+
+"I am ever so sorry," said the boy.  "I can't think how this trouble
+come to you."
+
+"If it's Jim," she answered angrily, "you needn't worry to find out,
+for I'll tell you.  I don't love him no more.  He would have married me
+if I cared to have him, but I didn't see my way to it.  Now let's drop
+the subject."
+
+David sat down not far from the fire.  He held out his hands to the
+blaze.  There was a sort of pleased excitement about him which Alison
+after a time could not help noticing.
+
+"You look quite perky about something," she said.  "It is good for any
+of us to be cheerful just now.  What's up?"
+
+"Where's Grannie?" said Dave.  "I'd like to tell her first."
+
+"Oh, very well, just as you please.  But she is out.  She won't be back
+for a good bit yet."
+
+"Aint it very late for her to be out?  Where is she gone?"
+
+"To Bayswater--to talk to a clergyman who used to befriend us in the
+old days.  What is your news, David?  You may as well tell me."
+
+"Why, it's this.  Mr. Watson has just had a long talk with me.  He
+wants me to help him with the accounts, and not to do messages any
+more.  He could get a lad for messages, he says, who hasn't got such a
+head on his shoulders as I have.  I can do bookkeeping pretty well, and
+he'll give me some more lessons.  I am to start next week doing
+office-work, and he'll give me five shillings a week instead of half a
+crown.  I call that prime; don't you, Alison?"
+
+"To be sure it is," she answered heartily.  She was very fond of David,
+and the note of exultation in his voice touched her, and penetrated
+through the deep gloom at her heart.
+
+"Why, this will cheer Grannie," she continued.
+
+"There's more to tell yet," continued David, "for I am to have my meals
+as well as the five shillings a week; so there'll be half a crown at
+the very least to put to the family purse, Alison, and I need be no
+expense, only just to sleep here.  I'll bring the five shillings to
+Grannie every Saturday night, and she can spend just what I want for
+clothes and keep the rest.  I guess she'll make it go as far as
+anybody."
+
+"This is good news," continued Alison.  "Of course five shillings is a
+sight better nor nothing, and if I only got a place we might keep the
+home together."
+
+"Why, is there any fear of our losing it?" asked David.
+
+"Dear me, David, can we keep it on nothing at all?  There's Grannie not
+earning sixpence, and there's me not earning sixpence; and how is the
+rent to be paid, and us all to be kept in food and things?  It aint to
+be done--you might have the common sense to know that."
+
+"To be sure I might," said David, his brow clouding.  "After all, then,
+I don't suppose the five shillings is much help."
+
+"Oh, yes, it will support you whatever happens, and that's a good deal.
+Don't fret, Dave; you are a right, good, manly fellow.  You will fight
+your way in the world yet, and Grannie and me we'll be proud of you.  I
+wish I had half the pluck you have; but there, I am so down now that
+nothing seems to come right.  I wish I had had the sense to learn that
+feather-stitching that you do so beautifully."
+
+David colored.
+
+"I aint ashamed to say that I know it," he said.  "I dare say I could
+teach it to you if you had a mind to learn it."
+
+But Alison shook her head.
+
+"No; it's too late now," she said.  "It takes months and months of
+practice to make a stitch like that to come to look anything like
+right, and we want the money at once.  We have got scarcely any left,
+and there's the rent due on Monday, and the little girls want new
+shoes--Kitty's feet were wringing wet when she came in to-day.  Oh,
+yes, I don't see how we are to go on.  But Grannie will tell us when
+she comes back.  Oh, and here she is."
+
+Alison flew to the door and opened it.  Mrs. Reed, looking bright and
+excited, entered.
+
+"Why, where are the little ones?" she said at once.  "Aint they reading
+their books, like good children?"
+
+"No, Grannie.  I'd a headache, and I let them go into the court to play
+a bit.  You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"Not for once, I don't," said Grannie; "but, Dave, lad, you'd better
+fetch 'em in now, for it's getting real late.  They may as well go
+straight off to bed, for I have a deal I want to talk over with you two
+to-night."
+
+Alison felt impatient and anxious; she could scarcely wait to hear
+Grannie's news.  The old lady sat down near the fire, uttering a deep
+sigh of relief as she did so.
+
+"Ally, my dear," she said, "I'm as weary as if I were seventy-eight
+instead of sixty-eight.  It's a long walk back from St. Paul's
+Churchyard, and there was a crowd out, to be sure; but it's a fine
+starlight night, and I felt as I was walking along, the Lord's in his
+heaven, and there can never be real bad luck for us, his servants, what
+trusts in him."
+
+Alison frowned.  She wished Grannie would not quote Scripture so much
+as she had done lately.  It jarred upon her own queer, perverse mood;
+but as she saw the courageous light in the blue eyes she suppressed an
+impatient sigh which almost bubbled to her lips.  She got tea for
+Grannie, who drank it in great contentment.  David brought the children
+in.  They kissed Grannie, and were hustled off to bed, rather to their
+own disgust, and then David, Grannie, and Alison sat gravely down, and
+looked each at the other.
+
+"Where's Harry?" said Grannie suddenly.  "Why aint the boy to home?"
+
+"I expect he's at the Boys' Club," said David.  "He's very fond of
+running round there in the evening."
+
+"There's no harm in that, Grannie," said Alison.  "Don't fret about
+Harry.  Now tell us your news, do.  Did you see Mr. Williams, and can
+he do anything?"
+
+"I saw Mr. Williams," said Grannie.  "He remembered me quite well.  I
+told him everything.  It seems to me that he has put things straight.
+I don't say that things aint sore--no, I don't go to pretend they
+aint--but somehow they seem straightened out a bit, and I know wot to
+do."
+
+"And what's that, Grannie?" asked David, taking her left hand very
+tenderly in his as he spoke.
+
+Grannie had been leaning back in a sort of restless attitude.  Now she
+straightened herself up and looked keenly at the boy.
+
+"It means, lad," she said, after a pause, "the sore part means this,
+that we must give up the little bit of a home."
+
+"We must give it up?" said David, in a blank sort of way.  "Oh, wait a
+while; you don't know about my five shillings a week."
+
+"Dave has got a rise," interrupted Alison.  "Mr. Watson thinks a sight
+of him, and he's to go into the house as a clerk, and he's to have five
+shillings a week and his meals.  So he's provided for."
+
+"But your five shillings a week won't keep up the home, Dave, so
+there's no use thinking of it, from that p'int o' view."
+
+"Go on, please, Grannie; what else have you and Mr. Williams arranged?"
+
+"It's the Lord has arranged it, child," said Grannie, "it aint Mr.
+Williams.  It's that thought that makes me kind o' cheerful over it."
+
+"But what is it, Grannie?  We are to give up the home?"
+
+"Well, the home gives us up," said Grannie, "for we can't keep the
+rooms ef we can't pay the rent, and the children can't be fed without
+money.  To put it plain, as far as the home goes, we're broke.  That's
+plain English.  It's this 'and that has done it, and I'll never believe
+in eddication from this time forward; but there's no use goin' back on
+that now.  Thank the Lord, I has everything settled and clear in my
+mind.  I pay the last rent come Monday, and out we go."
+
+"But where to?" said Alison.  "There's a lot of us, and we must live
+somewhere."
+
+"It's all settled, and beautiful too," said Grannie.  "Mr. Williams
+knows a lady who 'll be right glad to have you, Alison.  The lady is a
+friend of his, and she wants a sort of upper maid, and though you are a
+Phipps and a Simpson and a Reed all in one, you needn't be too proud to
+do work o' that sort.  He said she was quite certain to take to you,
+and you are to go to see her to-morrow morning.  She lives in
+Bayswater, and wants a girl who will attend on her and go messages for
+her and keep her clothes in order.  It will be a very light, genteel
+sort o' place, and you'll have a right good time there, Alison.  And
+then the three little girls.  Mr. Williams said it was wonderful lucky
+I called to-day, for he has got three vacancies for a school for orphan
+children in the country, and for a wonder he don't know any special
+orphan children to give them to this time, and he says that Kitty and
+Polly and Annie can go, and they'll be well fed, and well taught, and
+well clothed, and when they are old enough they'll go to service
+perhaps.  Anyhow, they'll be taught how to earn their living.  So they
+are settled for, and so are you, and it seems as if David's settled for
+too.  As to Harry, I told Mr. Williams all about him, and he says he'll
+think what he can do; he expects he can get him taken on somewhere, for
+he is a smart lad, although a bit wild in his ways."
+
+"But what is to come of you, Grannie?" said Alison, after a long pause.
+
+Grannie jumped up when Alison made this remark.
+
+"Well, I'm goin' on a visit," she said, "jest to freshen me up.  It
+don't matter a bit about me--life is slacking down with me, and there
+aint the least cause to worry.  I'm goin' on a visit; don't you fret,
+children."
+
+"But where to?" asked Alison.  "You don't know anybody.  I have never
+heard that you had any friends.  The Phippses and the Simpsons are all
+dead, all those you used to know."
+
+"I'm goin' to some friends of Mr. Williams," said Grannie, "and I'll be
+werry comfortable and I can stay as long as I like.  Now, for the
+Lord's sake don't begin to fret 'bout me; it's enough to anger me ef
+you do.  Aint we a heap to do atween this and Monday without fussin'
+over an old lady wot 'as 'ad the best o' good luck all her days?  This
+is Tuesday, and you are to go and see Mrs. Faulkner to-morrow morning,
+Alison.  I have got her address, and you are to be there by ten
+o'clock, not a minute later.  Oh, yes, our hands will be full, and we
+have no time to think o' the future.  The Lord has the future in his
+grip, chil'en, and 'taint for you and me to fret about it."
+
+Grannie seated herself again in her old armchair.
+
+"Fetch the Bible, Dave," she said suddenly, "and read a verse or two
+aloud."
+
+David rose to comply.  He took the family Bible from its place on the
+shelf.  Grannie opened the old book reverently.
+
+"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide
+under the shadow of the Almighty," read David.
+
+Grannie looked solemnly at the boy while the words so familiar and
+comforting fell from his lips.  He read or to the end of the
+magnificent Psalm.
+
+"I guess there's a power of luck in that hidin' place for them as can
+find it," she said, when he had finished.
+
+Then she kissed the boy and girl and went abruptly away to her own room.
+
+"What does she mean by going on a visit?" said David to his sister.
+
+"I don't know," said Alison fearfully.
+
+"It can't be----" began David.
+
+"No, no; don't say it, Dave," interrupted Alison.   "Don't say it
+aloud, don't----"  She clapped her hands suddenly to his lips.  "I
+can't bear it," she said suddenly.  "I won't hear it.  No, it's a
+visit.  It's all true; it's only a visit.  Good-night, Dave."
+
+She went away to her own room.  During the darkness and misery of that
+night Alison scarcely slept; but old Grannie slept.  God had given his
+angels charge of her, and no one ever had more peaceful slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+Monday came all too quickly.  Grannie was very masterful during the few
+days which went before.  She insisted on all the grandchildren doing
+exactly what she told them.  There were moments when she was almost
+stern; she had always been authoritative, and had a certain commanding
+way about her.  This week, even Alison did not dare to cross her in the
+smallest matter.  There was not a single hitch in the arrangements
+which Mr. Williams had sketched out.  Mrs. Faulkner took a great fancy
+to Alison, absolutely believed in her honesty and truth, and engaged
+her for a month's trial on the spot.  She told her to be sure to be
+with her by ten o'clock on Monday to begin her new duties.  Grannie
+went herself to see Mr. Watson; she had a private talk with him which
+no one knew anything about.  He told her that David was a boy in a
+hundred, that he was certain to do well, for he was both clever and
+conscientious.  He said that he could easily manage to fit up a bed for
+him in the back part of the shop; so he was provided for, and,
+according to Grannie and Mr. Watson, provided for well.  When Harry
+heard of the family's exodus, he left the house without a word.  He
+came back in the course of two or three hours, and told Mrs. Reed what
+he had done.
+
+"I am going to sea," he announced.  "I saw the captain of the _Brigand_
+down at the West India Docks, and he'll take me as cabin boy.  I dare
+say the life is a bit rough, but I know I shall like it.  I have always
+been so keen for adventure.  I am off to-morrow, Grannie; so I am out
+of the way."
+
+Grannie kissed the boy between his straight brows, looked into his
+fearless, dancing, mischievous eyes, and said a word or two which he
+never forgot.  She sent him off the next morning with the best wardrobe
+she could muster, half a crown in his pocket, and her blessing ringing
+in his ears.
+
+"'Taint much; it's a rough life, but it's the best that could be done,"
+she said to Alison.  "Ef he keeps straight he'll have good luck, for
+it's in the breed," she continued; then she resumed her preparations
+for the little girls.
+
+They went away on Saturday, and Alison, David, and Grannie had Sunday
+to themselves.  It was a sort of day which Alison could never talk of
+afterward.  It ought to have been very miserable, but it was not; there
+was a peace about it which comforted the much-tried girl, and which she
+often hugged to her heart in some of the dark days which were close at
+hand.
+
+"Now, chil'en," said Grannie, on the evening of that day, "you two will
+please go off early in the morning and leave me the last in the old
+house."
+
+"But mayn't we see you as far as the railway station?" said Alison.
+
+"No, my love, I prefer not," was the response.
+
+"But won't you tell us where you are going, Grannie?" said David.  "It
+seems so queer for us to lose sight of you.  Don't you think it a bit
+hard on us, old lady?"
+
+Grannie looked very earnestly at David.
+
+"No," she said, after a pause, "'taint hard, it's best.  I am goin' on
+a wisit; ef it aint comfortable, and ef the Lord don't want me to stay,
+why I won't stay; but I'd rayther not speak o' it to-night.  You must
+let me have my own way, Dave and Alison.  We are all suited for, some
+in one way and some in t'other, but I'd rayther go away to-morrow with
+jest the bit of fun of keeping it all to myself, at least for a time."
+
+"Is it in the country, Grannie?" said Alison.
+
+"I'm told it's a fine big place," replied Grannie.
+
+"And are they folks you ever knew?"
+
+"They're friends o' Mr. Williams," said Grannie, shutting up her lips.
+"Mr. Williams knows all about 'em.  He says I can go to see you often;
+'taint far from town.  You won't really be very far from me at all.
+But don't let us talk any more about it.  When a woman comes to my time
+o' life, ef she frets about herself she must be a mighty poor sort, and
+that aint me."
+
+Monday morning dawned, and Grannie had her way.  Alison and David both
+kissed her, and went out into the world to face their new duties.  They
+were not coming back any more to the little home.  Grannie was alone.
+
+"I haven't a minute to waste," she said to herself after they had gone,
+bustling about as she spoke.  "There's all the furniture to be sold
+now.  The auctioneer round the corner said he would look in arter the
+chil'en were well out o' the way.  Oh, I dare say I shall have heaps of
+time to fret by and by, but I ain't agoin' to fret now; not I.
+There'll be a nice little nest-egg out of the furniture, which Mr.
+Williams can keep for Alison; and ef Alison gets on, why, 'twill do for
+burying me when my time comes.  I think a sight of having a good
+funeral; the Lord knows I want to be buried decent, comin' of the breed
+I do; but there, I've no time to think of funerals or anything else
+now.  I had to be masterful this week to 'em darlin's, but 'twas the
+only thing to do.  Lor' sakes!  Suppose they'd begun fussing over me,
+what would have become of us all?"
+
+At this moment there came a knock at the door.  Grannie knew who it
+was.  It was the agent who came weekly, Monday after Monday, to collect
+the rent.
+
+"Here's your rent, Mr. Johnson," said Grannie, "and I  hope you'll get
+another tenant soon.  It was a right comfortable little flat, and we
+all enjoyed ourselves here.  We haven't a word to say agen our
+landlord, Mr. Johnson."
+
+"I am very sorry to lose you as a tenant, Mrs. Reed," said Mr. Johnson,
+giving the bright-eyed little woman a puzzled glance.  "If there is
+anything in my power----"
+
+"No, there aint!  No, there aint!" said Grannie, nodding.  "We has made
+fresh arrangements in the fam'ly, and don't require the rooms any
+longer.  I'll have the furniture out by twelve o'clock to-day, sir, and
+then the rooms will be washed out and tidied.  A neighbor downstairs
+has promised to do it.  Will you please tell me where I shall leave the
+key?"
+
+"You may leave it with Mrs. Murray on the next flat," said Mr. Johnson.
+"Well, I am sorry to lose you as a tenant, Mrs. Reed, and if ever you
+do want to settle down in a home again, please let me know, and I'll do
+my very best to provide you with a comfortable one."
+
+"I 'spect I won't have to pay no rent for my next home," said Grannie
+softly, under her breath, as she turned away from the door.  "Oh, Lord,
+to think that you're gettin' a mansion in the sky ready for an old body
+like me, and no rent to pay neither!  Dear Lord, to think it is getting
+ready for me now!  I am about as happy an old woman as walks--that I
+am."
+
+Grannie felt the religion which was part and parcel of her life
+extremely uplifting that morning.  It tided her safely over an hour so
+dark that it might have broken a less stout heart.  The auctioneer came
+round and priced the furniture.  Every bit of that furniture had a
+history.  Part of it belonged to the Reeds, part to the Phippses, and
+part to the Simpsons.  It was full of the stories of many lives; but,
+as Grannie said to herself, "I'll have heaps of time by and by to fret
+about the eight-day clock, and the little oak bureau under the window,
+and the plates, and cups, and dishes, and tables; I need not waste
+precious minutes over 'em now."
+
+So the auctioneer, who somehow could not cheat those blue eyes, offered
+a fair price for the little "bits o' duds," and by twelve o'clock he
+sent round a cart and a couple of men to carry them away.  The flat was
+quite bare and empty before Grannie finally locked the hall door and
+took the key down to Mrs. Murray.
+
+Mrs. Murray was very fond of Grannie, and was extremely inclined to be
+inquisitive; but if ever Mrs. Reed had been on her full dignity it was
+this morning.  She spoke about the good luck of the children in having
+found such comfortable homes, said that household work was getting a
+little too much for her, and that now she was going away on a visit.
+
+"To the country, ma'am?" said Mrs. Murray.  "It is rather early for the
+country jest yet, aint it?"
+
+"It is to a very nice part, suitable to the season," replied Grannie,
+setting her lips firmly.  "I'm always in luck, and I'm in my usual good
+luck now in findin' kind friends willin' and glad to have me.  I will
+wish you 'good-day' now, ma'am; I mustn't keep my friends waiting."
+
+"But won't you have a cup of tea afore you go, for you really look
+quite shaky?" said Mrs. Murray, who noticed that Grannie's left hand
+shook when she laid the key of the lost home on the table.
+
+"No, no, ma'am.  I expect to have tea with my friends," was the reply.
+"Thank you kindly, I am sure, Mrs. Murray, and I wish you well, ma'am."
+
+Mrs. Murray shook hands with Grannie and looked at her kindly and
+affectionately as she tripped down the winding stairs for the last time.
+
+Grannie wore her black silk bonnet, and her snow-white kerchief, and
+her neat little black shawl, and her white cotton gloves.  Her
+snow-white hair was as fluffy as usual under the brim of her bonnet,
+and her eyes were even brighter, and her cheeks wore a deeper shade of
+apple bloom about them.  Perhaps some people, some keen observers,
+would have said that the light in the eyes and the bloom on the cheeks
+were too vivid for perfect health; but, as it was, people only remarked
+as they saw her go down the street, "What a dear, pretty old lady!
+Now, _she_ belongs to some of the provident, respectable poor, if you
+like."  People said things of that sort as Grannie got into the omnibus
+presently, and drove away, and away, and away.  They did not know, they
+could not possibly guess, what Grannie herself knew well, that she was
+only a pauper on her way to the workhouse.  For Mrs. Reed had kept her
+secret, and the keeping of that secret was what saved her heart from
+being broken.  Mr. Williams had used influence on her behalf, and had
+got her into the workhouse of a parish to which she had originally
+belonged.  It was in the outskirts of London, and was, he said, one of
+the best and least severe of the class.
+
+"Provided the children don't know, nothing else matters," thought
+Grannie over and over, as she approached nearer and nearer to her
+destination.  "I am just determined to make the best of it," she said
+to herself, "and the children need never know.  I shall be let out on
+visits from time to time, and I must keep up the story that I am
+staying with kind friends.  I told Mr. Williams what I meant to do, and
+he didn't say it were wrong.  Lord, in thy mercy help me to keep this
+dark from the children, and help me to remember, wherever I am, that I
+was born a Phipps and a Simpson.  Coming of that breed, nothing ought
+to daunt me, and I'll live and die showing the good stock I am of."
+
+The omnibus set Grannie down within a quarter of a mile of her
+destination.  She carried a few treasures tied up in a silk
+handkerchief on her left arm, and presently reached the big gloomy
+gates of the workhouse.  Mr. Williams had made all the necessary
+arrangements for her, and she was admitted at once.  A male porter,
+dressed in hideous garb, conducted her across a courtyard to a
+bare-looking office, where she was asked to sit down.  After a few
+minutes the matron appeared, accompanied by a stoutly built woman, who
+called herself the labor matron, and into whose care Grannie was
+immediately given.  She was taken away to the bath-room first of all.
+There her own neat, pretty clothes were taken from her, and she was
+given the workhouse print dress, the ugly apron, the hideous cap, and
+the little three-cornered shawl to wear.
+
+"What's your age?"  asked the matron.
+
+"Sixty-eight, ma'am," replied Grannie.
+
+"Let me see; surely there is something wrong with that hand."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," replied Grannie solemnly; "it is the hand that has
+brought me here.  I was good at needlework in my day, ma'am, but 'twas
+writing as did it."
+
+"Writing! did you write much?" asked the matron.
+
+"No, ma'am, only twice a year at the most, but even them two letters
+cost me sore; they brought on a disease in the hand; it is called
+writers' cramp.  It is an awful complaint, and it has brought me here,
+ma'am."
+
+The labor matron looked very hard at Grannie.  She did not understand
+her words, nor the expression on her brave face.  Grannie by no means
+wore the helpless air which characterizes most old women when they come
+to the workhouse.
+
+"Well," she said, after a pause, "hurry with your bath; you needn't
+have another for a fortnight; but once a fortnight you must wash here.
+At your age, and with your hand so bad, you won't be expected to do any
+manual work at all."
+
+"I'd rayther, ef you please, ma'am," said Grannie.  "I'm not accustomed
+to settin' idle."
+
+"Well, I don't see that you can do anything; that hand is quite past
+all use, but perhaps the doctor will take a look at it to-morrow.  Now
+get through that bath, and I'll take you to the room where the other
+old women are."
+
+"Good Lord, keep me from thinkin' o' the past," said Grannie when the
+door closed behind her.
+
+She got through the bath and put on her workhouse dress, and felt, with
+a chill all through her little frame, that she had passed suddenly from
+life to death.  The matron came presently to fetch her.
+
+"This way, please," she said, in a tart voice.  She had treated Grannie
+with just a shadow of respect as long as she wore her own nice and
+dainty clothes, but now that she was in the workhouse garb, she looked
+like any other bowed down little woman.  She belonged, in short, to the
+failures of life.  She was hurried down one or two long passages, then
+through a big room, empty at present, which the matron briefly told her
+was the "Able-bodied Women's Ward," and then into another very large
+room, where a bright fire burnt, and where several women, perhaps fifty
+or sixty, were seated on benches, doing some light jobs of needlework,
+or pretending to read, or openly dozing away their time.  They were all
+dressed just like Grannie, and took little or no notice when she came
+in.  She was only one more failure, to join the failures in the room.
+These old women were all half dead, and another old woman was coming to
+share their living grave.  The matron said something hastily, and shut
+the door behind her.  Grannie looked round; an almost wild light lit up
+her blue eyes for a moment, then it died out, and she went softly and
+quietly across the room.
+
+"Ef you are cold, ma'am, perhaps you'll like to set by the fire," said
+an old body who must have been at least ten years Grannie's senior.
+
+"Thank you, ma'am, I'll be much obleeged," said Grannie, and she sat
+down.
+
+Her bath had, through some neglect, not been properly heated; it had
+chilled her, and all of a sudden she felt tired, old, and feeble, and a
+long shiver ran down her back.  She held out her left hand to the
+blaze.  A few of the most active of the women approached slowly, and
+either stood and looked at her, or sat down as near her as possible.
+She had very lately come from life; they were most of them accustomed
+to death.  Their hearts were feebly stirred with a kind of dim
+interest, but the life such as Grannie knew was dull and far off to
+them.
+
+"This is a poor sort of place, ma'am," said one of them.
+
+Grannie roused herself with a great effort.
+
+"Ef I begin to grumble I am lost," she said stoutly to herself.  "Well,
+now, it seems to me a fine airy room," she said.  "It is all as it
+strikes a body, o' course," she added, very politely; "but the room
+seems to me lofty."
+
+"You aint been here long, anybody can see that," said an old woman of
+the name of Peters, with a sniff.  "Wait till you live here day after
+day, with nothin' to do, and nothin' to think of, and nothin' to hear,
+and nothin' to read, and, you may say, nothin' to eat."
+
+"Dear me," said Grannie, "don't they give us our meals?"
+
+"Ef you like to _call_ 'em such," said Mrs. Peters, with a sniff.  And
+all the other women sniffed too.  And when Mrs. Peters emphasized her
+condemnation of the food with a groan, all the other old women groaned
+in concert.
+
+Grannie looked at them, and felt that she had crossed an impassable
+gulf.  Never again could she be the Grannie she had been when she awoke
+that morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+It was bitterly cold weather when Grannie arrived at the workhouse.
+Not that the workhouse itself was really cold.  Its sanitary
+arrangements were as far as possible perfect; its heating arrangements
+were also fairly good.  Notwithstanding the other old women's groans,
+the food was passable and even nourishing, and beyond the fact that
+there was an absence of hope over everything, there were no real
+hardships in the great Beverley workhouse.  There were a good many old
+women in this workhouse--in fact, two large wards full--and these were
+perhaps the most melancholy parts of the establishment.  They slept on
+clean little narrow beds in a huge ward upstairs.  There was a
+partition about eight feet high down the middle of this room.  Beds
+stood in rows, back to back, at each side of this partition; beds stood
+in rows along the walls; there were narrow passages between the long
+rows of beds.  The room was lighted with many windows high up in the
+walls, and there was a huge fireplace at either end.  By a curious
+arrangement, which could scarcely be considered indulgent, the fires in
+very cold weather were lit at nine o'clock in the morning, after the
+paupers had gone downstairs, and put out again at five in the
+afternoon.  Why the old creatures might not have had the comfort of the
+fires when they were in their ward, it was difficult to say, but such
+was the rule of the place.
+
+Grannie's bed was just under one of the windows, and when she went
+upstairs the first night, the chill, of which she had complained ever
+since she had taken her bath, kept her awake during the greater part of
+the hours of darkness.  There were plenty of blankets on her little
+bed, but they did not seem to warm her.  The fact is, there was a great
+chill at her heart itself.  Her vitality was suddenly lowered; she was
+afraid of the long dreary future; afraid of all those hopeless old
+women; afraid of the severe cleanliness, the life hedged in with
+innumerable rules, the dinginess of the new existence.  Her faith
+burned dim; her trust in God himself was even a little shaken.  She
+wondered why such a severe punishment was sent to her; why she, who
+wrote so little, should get a disease brought on by writing.  It seemed
+all incomprehensible, unfathomable, too dark for any ordinary words, or
+any ordinary consolation to reach.
+
+For the first time in her life she forgot her grandchildren, and the
+invariable good luck of the family, and thought mostly about herself.
+Toward morning she fell into a troubled doze, but she had scarcely
+seemed to drop asleep before a great bell sounded, which summoned her
+to rise.  It was just six o'clock, and, at this time of the year, pitch
+dark.  The long ward was now bitterly cold, and Grannie shivered as she
+got into her ugly workhouse dress.  The other old women rose from their
+hard beds with many "ughs" and groans, and undercurrents of grumbling.
+Grannie was much too proud to complain.  They were all dressed by
+five-and-twenty past six, and then they went downstairs in melancholy
+procession, and entered the dining-hall, where their breakfast,
+consisting of tea, bread and margarine, was served to them.  When
+breakfast was over they went upstairs to the ground floor, and Grannie
+found herself again in the ward into which she had been introduced the
+night before.
+
+The women who could work got out their needlework, and began to perform
+their allotted tasks in a very perfunctory manner.  Grannie's fingers
+quite longed and ached for something to do.  She was sent for presently
+to see the doctor, who examined her hand, said it would never be of any
+use again, ordered a simple liniment, and dismissed her.  As Grannie
+was returning from this visit, she met the labor matron in one of the
+corridors.
+
+"I wish you would give me something to do," she said suddenly.
+
+"Well, what can you do?" asked the matron.  "Has the doctor seen your
+hand?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And what does he say to it?"
+
+"He says it will never be any better."
+
+"Never be any better!"  The labor matron fixed Grannie with two rather
+indignant eyes.  "And what are you wasting my time for, asking for
+work, when you know you can't do it?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I think I can, ma'am--that is, with the left hand.  I cannot
+do needlework, perhaps, but I could dust and tidy, and even polish a
+bit.  I have always been very industrious, ma'am, and it goes sore agen
+the grain to do nothin'."
+
+"Industrious indeed!" muttered the matron.  "If you had been
+industrious and careful, you wouldn't have found your way here.  No,
+there is no work for you, as far as I can see.  Some of the able-bodied
+women do out the old women's ward; it would never do to trust it to an
+incapable like yourself.  There, I can't waste any more time with you."
+
+The matron hurried away, and Grannie went back to her seat by the fire,
+in the company of the other old women.  They were curious to know what
+the doctor had said to her, and when she told them they shook their
+heads and groaned, and said they all knew that would be the case.
+
+"No one _h_advanced in life gets better here," said Mrs. Peters; "and
+you are _h_advanced in life, aint you, ma'am?"
+
+"Not so very," replied Grannie indignantly.  She felt quite young
+beside most of the other old paupers.
+
+"Well now, I calc'late you're close on eighty," said Mrs. Peters.
+
+"Indeed, you are mistook," replied Grannie.  "I aint seventy yet.  I'm
+jest at the age when it is no expense at all to live, so to speak.  I
+were sixty-eight last November, and no one can call that old.  At least
+not to say very old."
+
+"You look seventy-eight at the very least," said most of the women.
+They nodded and gave Grannie some solemn, queer glances.  They all saw
+a change in her which she did not know anything about herself.  She had
+aged quite ten years since yesterday.
+
+The one variety in the old women's lives was their meals.  Dinner came
+at half-past twelve, and supper at six.  All the huge old family went
+up to bed sharp at eight.  There could not possibly be a more dreary
+life than theirs.  As the days passed on, Grannie recovered from her
+first sense of chill and misery, and a certain portion of her brave
+spirit returned.  It was one of the rules of the workhouse that the
+pauper women of over sixty might go out every Sunday from half-past
+twelve to six.  They might also go out for the same number of hours on
+Thursday.  Those who were in sufficiently good health always availed
+themselves of this outing, and Grannie herself looked forward quite
+eagerly to Sunday.  She scarcely slept on Saturday night for thinking
+of this time of freedom.  She had obtained permission to wear her own
+neat dress, and she put it on with untold pride and satisfaction on
+this Sunday morning.  Once again some of the spirit of the Simpsons and
+Phippses came into her.  She left the workhouse quite gayly.
+
+"I feel young again," she murmured to herself as she heard the ugly
+gates clang behind her.
+
+She walked down the road briskly, took an omnibus, and by and by found
+herself at Bayswater.  She had asked Alison to wait in for her, telling
+the girl that she might be able to pay her a little visit on Sunday.
+When she rang, therefore, the servants' bell at Mrs. Faulkner's
+beautiful house, Alison herself opened the door.
+
+Alison looked handsomer than ever in her neat lady's-maid costume.
+
+"Oh, Grannie," she exclaimed.  "It is good for sore eyes to see you.
+Come in, come in.  You can't think how kind Mrs. Faulkner is.  She says
+I'm to have you all to myself, and you are to stay to dinner, and David
+is here; and the housekeeper (I have been telling the housekeeper a lot
+about you, Grannie) has given us her little parlor to dine in, and Mrs.
+Faulkner is out for the day.  Oh, we'll have quite a good time.  Come
+downstairs at once, dear Grannie, for dinner is waiting."
+
+"Well, child, I am pleased to see you so spry," said Grannie.  Her
+voice felt quite choking when she entered the big, luxurious house.
+"I'll be able to keep it up fine," she murmured to herself.  "Lor', I'm
+a sight better; it was the air of that place that was a-killin' me.
+I'll keep it up afore the chil'en, and ef I can manage to do that, why
+bless the Lord for all his mercies."
+
+David was waiting in the housekeeper's room when Grannie got
+downstairs.  Grannie had never known before what a power of comfort
+there was in David's strong young step, and the feel of his firm
+muscular arms, and the sensation of his manly kiss on her cheek.
+
+"Aye, Dave," she said, "I'm a sight better for seeing you, my lad."
+
+"And I for seeing you," replied the boy.  "We have missed Grannie,
+haven't we, Ally?"
+
+"Don't talk of it," said Alison, tears springing to her blue eyes.
+
+"Well, we're all together again now," said Grannie.  "Bless the Lord!
+Set down each side of me, my darlin's, and tell me everything.  Oh, I
+have hungered to know, I have hungered to know."
+
+"Mine is a very good place," said Alison.  "Mrs. Faulkner is most kind."
+
+"And ef it weren't for thinking of you, Grannie, and missing you," said
+David, "why, I'd be as happy as the day is long."
+
+"But tell us about yourself, dear Grannie," said Alison.  "How do you
+like the country, and are Mr. Williams' friends good to you?"
+
+"Real good! that they are," said Grannie.  "Why, it's a beautiful big
+place."
+
+"They are not poor folks, then?" said David.
+
+"Poor!" said Grannie.  "I don't go for to deny that there are some poor
+people there, but they as owns the place aint poor.  Lor' bless yer,
+it's a fine place.  Don't you fret for me, my dearies.  I'm well
+provided for, whoever aint."
+
+"But how long are you to stay?" said David.  "You can't always be on a
+visit with folks, even if they are the friends of Mr. Williams."
+
+"Of course I can't stay always," said Grannie, "but Mr. Williams has
+arranged that I am to stay for a good two or three months at least, and
+by then, why, we don't know what 'll turn out.  Now, chil'en, for the
+Lord's sake don't let us waste time over an old body like me.  Didn't I
+tell you that I have come to the time o' life when I aint much 'count?
+Let's talk of you, my dearies, let's talk of you."
+
+"Let's talk of dinner first," said David.  "I'm mighty hungry, whoever
+aint."
+
+The dinner served in Mrs. Faulkner's housekeeper's room was remarkably
+nourishing and dainty, and Grannie enjoyed the food, which was not
+workhouse food, with a zest which surprised herself.  She thought that
+she had completely thrown her grandchildren off the scent, and if that
+were the case, nothing else mattered.  When dinner was over the sun
+shone out brightly, and Alison and David took Grannie out for a walk.
+They went into Kensington Gardens, which were looking very bright and
+pretty.  Then they came home, and Grannie had a cup of tea, after which
+she rose resolutely and said it was time for her to go.
+
+"I will see you back," said David, in a determined voice.  "I have
+nothing else to do.  I don't suppose those friends of Mr. Williams who
+are so good to you would mind me coming as far as the door."
+
+"Yes, they would," said Grannie, "they wouldn't like it a bit."
+
+"Now, Grannie, that's all nonsense, you know," said the young man.
+
+"No it aint, my lad, no it aint.  You've just got to obey me, David, in
+this matter.  I know what I know, and I won't be gainsaid."
+
+Grannie had suddenly put on her commanding air.
+
+"I am on a visit with right decent folks--people well-to-do in the
+world, wot keep up everything in fine style--and ef they have fads
+about relations comin' round their visitors, why shouldn't they?
+Anyhow, I am bound to respect 'em.  You can't go home with me, Dave,
+but you shall see me to the 'bus, ef you like."
+
+"Well," said Dave, a suspicious, troubled look creeping up into his
+face, "that's all very fine, but I wish you wouldn't make a mystery of
+where you are staying, dear Grannie."
+
+"I don't want to," said Grannie.  "It's all Mr. Williams.  He has been
+real kind to me and mine, and ef he wants to keep to himself what his
+friends are doing for me, why shouldn't I obleege him?"
+
+"Why not, indeed?" said Alison.  "But are you sure you are really
+comfortable, Grannie?"
+
+"And why shouldn't I be comfortable, child?  I don't look
+uncomfortable, do I?"
+
+"No, not really, but somehow----"
+
+"Yes, I know what you mean," interrupted David.
+
+"Somehow," said Alison, "you look changed."
+
+"Oh, and ef I do look a bit changed," said the old woman, "it's cause
+I'm a-frettin' for you.  Of course I miss you all, but I'll get
+accustomed to it; and it's a beautiful big place, and I'm in rare luck
+to have got a 'ome there.  Now I must hurry off.  God bless you, my
+dear!"
+
+Alison stood on the steps of Mrs. Faulkner's house, and watched Grannie
+as she walked down the street.  The weather had changed, and it was now
+bitterly cold; sleet was falling, and there was a high wind.  But
+Grannie was leaning on Dave's arm, and she got along bravely.
+
+"I don't like it," said Alison to herself, as she went into the house.
+"Grannie's hiding something; I can't think what it is.  Oh, dear, oh
+dear, how I wish Jim had been true to me.  If he only had, we would
+have made a home for Grannie somehow.  Grannie is hiding something.
+What can it be?"
+
+Meanwhile David saw Grannie to the omnibus, where he bade her an
+affectionate "good-by."  She arranged to come again to see her
+grandchildren on the following Sunday if all was well.
+
+"But ef I don't come, don't you fret, Dave, boy," was her last word to
+the lad.  "Ef by chance I don't come, you'll know it's because it aint
+quite convenient in the family I'm staying with.  Now, good-by, Dave.
+Bless you, lad."
+
+The omnibus rolled away, and Grannie snuggled back into her corner.
+Her visit to her grandchildren had cheered her much, and she thought
+that she could very well get through a dreary week in the workhouse
+with that beacon post of Sunday on ahead.  She would not for the world
+trouble the children on work-a-day Thursday, but on Sunday she might as
+a rule get a sight of them.
+
+"And they suspect nothin', thank the good Lord!" she said, hugging her
+secret to her breast.
+
+She left the omnibus at the same corner where she had left it on the
+previous Monday.
+
+The weather meanwhile had been changing for the worse; snow was now
+falling thickly, and the old woman had no umbrella.  She staggered
+along, beaten and battered by the great tempest of wind and snow.  At
+first she stepped on bravely enough, but by and by her steps grew
+feeble.  The snow blinded her eyes and took away her breath, it
+trickled in little pools down into her neck, and seemed to find out all
+the weak parts of her dress.  Her thin black shawl was covered with
+snow; her bonnet was no longer black, but white.  Her heart began to
+beat at first too loudly, then feebly; she tottered forward, stumbling
+as one in a dream.  She was cold, chilled through and through;
+bitterly, bitterly cold.  Suddenly, without knowing it, she put her
+foot on a piece of orange-peel; she slipped, and the next moment lay
+prone in the soft snow.  Her fall took away her last remnant of
+strength; try as she would, she found she could not rise.  She raised
+her voice to call for assistance, and presently a stout laboring man
+came up and bent over the little prostrate woman.
+
+"Let me help you to get up, ma'am," he said politely.
+
+He caught hold of her swollen right hand.  The sudden pain forced a
+sharp scream from her lips.
+
+"Not that hand, please, sir; the other," she said.  She put out her
+left hand.
+
+"Nay, I'll lift you altogether," he said.  "Why, you are no weight at
+all.  Are you badly hurt, ma'am?"
+
+"No, no, it's nothin'," said Grannie, panting, and breathing with
+difficulty.
+
+"And where shall I take you to?  You can't walk--you are not to attempt
+it.  Is your home anywhere near here, ma'am?"
+
+In spite of all her pain and weakness, a flush of shame came into the
+old cheeks.
+
+"It is nigh here, very nigh," said Grannie, "but it aint my home; it's
+Beverley workhouse, please, sir."
+
+"All right," said the man.  He did not notice Grannie's shame.
+
+The next moment he had pulled the bell at the dreary gates, and Grannie
+was taken in.  She was conveyed straight up to the infirmary.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+It wanted but a week to Jim Hardy's wedding day.  Preparations were in
+full swing, and the Clays' house was, so to speak, turned topsy-turvy.
+Jim was considered a most lucky man.  He was to get five hundred pounds
+with his bride.  With that five hundred pounds Louisa proposed that Jim
+should set up in business for himself.  He and she would own a small
+haberdasher's shop.  They could stock it well, and even put by a
+nest-egg for future emergencies.  Jim consented to all her proposals.
+He felt depressed and unlike himself.  In short, there never was a more
+unwilling bridegroom.  He had never loved Louisa.  She had always been
+repugnant to him.  In a moment of pique he had asked her to marry him,
+and his repentance began half an hour after his engagement.  Still he
+managed to play his part sufficiently well.  Louisa, whose passion for
+him increased as the days went on, made no complaint; she was true to
+her promise, and never mentioned Alison's name, and the wedding day
+drew on apace.  The young people's banns had already been called twice
+in the neighboring church, the next Sunday would be the third time, and
+the following Thursday was fixed for the wedding.  Jim came home late
+one evening tired out, and feeling more depressed than usual.  A letter
+was waiting for him on the mantelpiece.  He had already given notice to
+quit his comfortable bedroom.  He and Louisa were to live for a
+time--until they had chosen their shop and furnished it--with the
+Clays.  This arrangement was very disagreeable to Jim, but it did not
+occur to him to demur; his whole mind was in such a state of collapse
+that he allowed Louisa and her people to make what arrangements they
+pleased.
+
+"There's a letter for you upstairs," said his landlady, as he hurried
+past her.
+
+The young man's heart beat fast for a moment.  Could Alison by any
+chance have written to him?  He struck a light hastily and looked at
+the letter, which was lying on his table.  No, the handwriting was not
+Alison's, and when he opened it the first thing he saw was a check,
+which fell out.
+
+
+"My Dear Nephew [ran the letter], I hope this finds you well, as it
+leaves me.  You must be a well-grown lad now, and, in short, have come
+to full man's estate.  I have done well in Australia, and if you like
+to join me here, I believe I can put you in the way of earning a good
+living.  I inclose a draft on the City Bank, London, for one hundred
+pounds, which will pay your passage and something over.  If you like to
+come, you will find me at the address at the head of this paper.  I am
+making lots of money, and if you have a head on your shoulders, you can
+help me fine in my business.  If you don't care to come, you may use
+the money to start housekeeping when you marry; but if you are wise you
+will take my advice.
+
+  "Your affectionate uncle,
+    "JAMES HARDY."
+
+
+Jim fingered the check, and looked absently before him.
+
+"Why shouldn't I get clear out of the whole business?" he said.  "I
+could leave the country to-morrow with this money, and go out and join
+Uncle James, and make my fortune by and by.  Why should I stick to
+Louisa when I hate her?  It's all over with Alison and me.  Oh, Alison,
+how could you love another fellow when I loved you so well, and was so
+true to you?  I can't understand it--no, I can't.  I don't believe for
+a moment that she was telling me the truth the other day--why, there is
+no other fellow.  I have made inquiries and I can't hear of anyone.  It
+isn't as if hundreds wouldn't want her, but she is keeping company with
+no one.  I believe it was an excuse she made; there's a mystery at the
+bottom of it.  Something put her out, and she was too proud to let me
+see what it was.  And, oh dear, why was I so mad as to propose marriage
+to a girl like Louisa Clay?  Yes; why shouldn't I get quit of the thing
+to-night?  I have the money now.  I can take Uncle James's advice
+to-night; why shouldn't I do it?"
+
+Jim stood straight up as these thoughts came to him.  He slipped the
+foreign letter into his pocket, walked with a long stride to the
+window, flung the sash open, and looked out into the night.
+
+"I can't do it," he muttered; "it isn't in me to be an out-and-out
+scoundrel.  She is not the girl I want, but I have promised her, and I
+must stick to it; all the same, I am a ruined man.  Oh, if Alison had
+only been true to me."
+
+"Now, old chap, what are you grumbling to yourself for?" said a voice
+just behind him.
+
+He turned abruptly and met the keen-eyed, ferret-looking face of the
+detective Sampson.  Sampson and Jim had not been very friendly lately,
+and Jim wondered now in a vague sort of way why his quondam friend had
+troubled himself to visit him.
+
+"Sit down, won't you?" he said abruptly.  "There's a chair."
+
+"I'll shut the door first," said Sampson.  "I have got a thing or two
+to say to you, and you may as well hear me out.  You aint behaved
+straight to me, Jim; you did a shabby thing behind my back; but, Lor'
+bless you, ef it's saved me from a gel like Louisa Clay, why, I'll be
+obleeged to you to the end of my days.  Look here, I was very near
+committing myself with that girl.  'Twasn't that I loved her, but I
+don't go for to deny that she was good-looking, and she certainly did
+tickle my fancy considerable, and then when I thought of the tidy bit
+of silver that she would have from her father, I made up my mind that
+she would be a good enough match for me; but mind you, I never thought
+her straight--I never yet was mistook in any character I ever studied
+carefully.  I couldn't follow out my calling if I did, Jim, old chap;
+and that you know well."
+
+"I don't suppose you could, George," said Jim; "but I think it only
+fair to tell you before you go a step further, that I am engaged to
+Louisa, and I can't hear her run down by anyone now.  So you may as
+well know that first as last."
+
+"Engaged or not," said Sampson, with curious emphasis, "you have got to
+hear a thing or two about Louisa Clay to-night."
+
+"If it is bad, I won't hear it," said Jim, clenching his big hand.
+
+"Then you are a greater fool than I took you for; but, look here,
+you've got to listen, for it concerns that other girl, the girl you
+used to be so mad on, Alison Reed."
+
+Jim's hands slowly unclenched.  He turned round and fixed his great
+dark eyes with a kind of hungry passion in them on Sampson's face.
+
+"If it has anything to do with Alison I am bound to hear it," he said.
+
+"Then you love her still?" said Sampson, in surprise.
+
+"Love her!" replied Jim; "aye, lad, that I do.  I am near mad about
+her."
+
+"And yet you are going to marry Louisa Clay."
+
+"So it seems, George, so it seems; but what's the good of talking about
+what can't be cured?  Alison has thrown me over, and I am promised to
+Louisa, and there's an end of it."
+
+"Seems to me much more like that you have thrown Alison over," said
+Sampson.  "Why, I was in the room that night of the play-acting, and I
+saw Alison Reed just by the stairs, looking as beautiful as a picter,
+and you come up with that other loud, noisy gel, and you talked to her
+werry affectionate, I must say.  I heard what she said to you--that
+there wasn't a thing in heaven above, or in earth beneath, she wouldn't
+do for you.  Maybe Alison heard them words too; there's no saying.  I
+was so mad at what I thought Louisa's falsehood to me, that I cut the
+whole concern fast enough.  Well, that's not what I have come to talk
+on to-night; it is this: I think I have traced the theft of that
+five-pound note straight home at last."
+
+"You haven't?" said Jim.  "Oh, but that's good news indeed; and Alison
+is cleared?"
+
+"She is; but I don't see how it is good news to you, for the theft is
+brought home to the gel what is to be your wife in less than a week."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Hardy.  "I always said you were too sharp on Louisa.
+She aint altogether to my taste, I am bound to confess, although I have
+promised her marriage; but she's not a thief.  Come, now, you cannot
+get me to believe she's as bad as that."
+
+"You listen to me, Hardy, and stay quiet," said Sampson.  "I can put
+what I know in a few words, and I will.  From the very first I
+suspected Louisa Clay.  She was jealous of Alison, and had a motive for
+tryin' to do her a bad turn.  She was over head and ears in love with
+you, as all the world could see.  That, when I saw her first, I will
+own, I began to think as she'd be a good mate for myself, and it come
+over me that I wouldn't push the inquiry any further.  It might be well
+to know a secret about your wife, to hold over her in case she proved
+troublesome by'm-by.  I am not a feller with any high notions, as
+perhaps you have guessed--anyhow, I let the thing drop, and I went in
+for Louisa for the sake of her money.  When she threw me over so sharp,
+you may suppose that my feelings underwent a head-to-tail sort of
+motion, and I picked up the clew pretty fast again, and worked on it
+until I got a good thread in my hand.  I needn't go into particulars
+here about all I did and all I didn't do, but I managed first of all to
+pick up with Shaw, your master.  I met him out one evening, and I told
+him that I knew you, and that you were in an awful taking because your
+gel, Alison Reed, was thought to have stolen a five-pound note.  He
+talked a bit about the theft, and then I asked him if he had the number
+of the note.  He clapped his hand on his thigh, and said what a fool he
+was, but he had never thought of the number until that moment.  He had
+looked at it when he put the note in the till as he supposed, and by
+good luck he remembered it.  He said off to me what he believed it was,
+and I entered it in my notebook.
+
+"'I have you now, my fine lady,' I said to myself, and I went off and
+did a little bit of visiting in the smartest shops round, and by and by
+I heard further tidings of the note.  It had been changed, two days
+after it had been stolen, by a young woman answering to Louisa Clay in
+all particulars.  When things had come as far as that, I said to
+myself----
+
+"'Ef there is a case for bluff, this is one.  I'll just go and wring
+the truth from Louisa before she is an hour older.'
+
+"So I went to see her only this morning.  I blarneyed her a bit
+first--you know my style--and then I twitted her for being false to me,
+and then I got up a sort of pretense quarrel, and I worked on her
+feelings until she got into a rage, and when she was all hot and
+peppery, I faced right round on her, and charged her with the theft.
+
+"'You stole that five-pound note from the till in Shaw's shop,' I said,
+'and you let Alison Reed be charged with it.  I know you stole it, so
+you needn't deny it.  The number of the note was, one, one, one, seven.
+I have it written here in my note-book.  I traced the note to Dawson's,
+round the corner, and they can swear, if necessary, in a court of
+justice, that you gave it to them in exchange for some yards of black
+silk.  By the way, I believe that is the very identical silk you have
+on you this minute.  Oh, fie, Louisa! you are a bad 'un.'
+
+"She turned white as one of them egg-shell china cups, and she put her
+hands before her eyes, and her hands shook.  And after a bit she said:
+
+"'Oh, George, don't have me locked up, and I'll tell you everything."
+
+"'Well, you'll have to put it in writing,' I said, 'or I won't have a
+crumb of mercy on you.'
+
+"So I got the story out of her, Jim.  It seems the note had never been
+dropped into the till at all, but had fallen on the floor just by the
+manager's desk, and Louisa had seen it and picked it up, and she
+confessed to hoping that Alison would be charged with it.  Here's her
+confession in this envelope, signed and witnessed and all.  So now, you
+can marry her come Thursday ef you like."
+
+Sampson got up and stretched himself as he spoke.
+
+Jim's face, which had turned from red to white, and from white again to
+crimson, during this brief narrative, was now stern and dark.
+
+"I am obliged to you, Sampson," he said, after a pause.
+
+"What will you do?" asked the detective, with some curiosity.  "I see
+this is a bit of a blow, and I am not surprised; but what will you do?"
+
+"I can't tell.  I must think things over.  Do you say you have the
+confession in your pocket?"
+
+"Yes; in my breast pocket.  Here is the envelope sticking out above my
+coat."
+
+"Give it to me," said Jim, stretching out his big hand.
+
+"Not I.  That's my affair.  I can make use of this.  Why, I could hold
+a thing of this sort over the head of your fair bride, and blackmail
+her, if necessary."
+
+"No, no, Sampson; you are not a ruffian, of that sort."
+
+George Sampson suddenly changed his manner.
+
+"As far as you are concerned, Jim, I am no ruffian," he said.  "To tell
+the plain truth, I have always liked yer, and I'll act by you as
+straight as a die in this matter.  If you never do anything else,
+you've saved me from being the husband of that gel, and I'll be
+thankful to you for it to my dying day.  But for the Lord's sake, don't
+you put yourself into the noose now.  You can't be so mad, surely."
+
+"Leave me for to-night, Sampson," said Jim in a voice of entreaty.  "I
+can't say anything, I must think.  Leave me for to-night."
+
+The detective got up slowly, whistled in a significant manner, and left
+the room.
+
+"Now, if Jim Hardy is quixotic enough to marry Louisa Clay after what I
+have said, I'll never speak to a good man again as long as I live," he
+muttered.
+
+But Jim Hardy had not made up his mind how to act at all; he was simply
+stunned.  When he found himself alone he sank down on a chair close to
+his little center table, put his elbows on the table, and buried his
+head in his big hands.  The whole bewildering truth was too much for
+him.  He was honest and straight himself, and could not understand
+duplicity.  Louisa's conduct was incomprehensible to him.  What should
+he do now?  Should he be true to one so false?  This question began
+dimly to struggle to obtain an answer in his mind.  He had scarcely
+begun to face it, when a knock at the door, and the shrill voice of his
+landlady calling out, "I have got a letter for you, Mr. Hardy, you are
+in favor with the post to-night," reached him.
+
+He walked across the room, opened the door, and took the letter from
+the landlady's hand.  She gave him a quick, curious glance; she saw
+shrewdly enough that something was worrying him.
+
+"Why do he go and marry a girl like that Clay creature?" she muttered
+to herself as she whisked downstairs.  "I wouldn't have her if she had
+double the money they say he's to get with her."
+
+Jim meanwhile stared hard at the writing on his letter.  It was in
+Louisa Clay's straggling, badly formed hand.  He hastily tore open the
+envelope, and read the brief contents.  They ran as follows:
+
+
+"DEAR JIM,--I dare say you have heard something about me, and I don't
+go for to deny that that something is true.  I was mad when I did it,
+but, mad or sane, it is best now that all should be over between you
+and me.  I couldn't bear to marry you, and you knowing the truth.  Then
+you never loved me--any fool could see that.  So I am off out of
+London, and you needn't expect to see me any more.
+
+  "Yours no longer,
+    "LOUISA CLAY."
+
+
+Jim's first impulse when he had read this extraordinary and unexpected
+letter was to dance a hornpipe from one end of the room to the other;
+his next was to cry hip, hip, hurrah in a stentorian voice.  His last
+impulse he acted upon.  He caught up his hat and went out as fast as
+ever he could.  With rapid strides he hurried through the crowded
+streets, reached the Bank, and presently found himself on the top of an
+omnibus which was to convey him to Bayswater.  He was following his
+impulse with a beating heart, eyes that blazed with light, and lips
+that trembled with emotion.  He had been a prisoner tied fast in chains
+of his own forging.  All of a sudden he was free.  Impulse should have
+its way.  His heart should dictate to him in very earnest at last.
+With Louisa's letter and his uncle's letter in his pocket, he presently
+reached the great house where Mrs. Faulkner lived.  He had often passed
+that house since Alison had gone to it, walking hungrily past it at
+dead of night, thinking of the girl whom he loved but might never win;
+now he might win his true love after all--he meant to try.  His
+triumphant steps were heard hurrying down the pavement.  He pulled the
+servants' bell and asked boldly for Alison.
+
+"Who shall I say?" asked the kitchen-maid who admitted him.
+
+"Say Jim Hardy, and that my message is urgent," was the reply.
+
+The girl, who was impressed by Jim's goodly height and breadth, invited
+him into the housekeeper's parlor, where Alison joined him in a few
+minutes.  Her face was like death when she came in; her hand shook so
+that she could scarcely hold it out for Jim to clasp.  He was master,
+however, on this occasion--the averted eyes, the white face, the
+shaking hand were only all the more reasons why he should clasp the
+maiden he loved to his heart.  He strode across the room and shut the
+door.
+
+"Can we be alone for a few minutes?" he said.
+
+"I suppose so, Jim, if--if it is necessary," said Alison.
+
+"It is necessary.  I have something to say."
+
+Alison did not reply.  She was trembling more than ever.
+
+"I have got to say this," said Jim: "I am off with Louisa Clay.  We're
+not going to be married.  I don't want her, I never wanted her, and now
+it seems that she don't want me.  And, Alison, you are cleared of that
+matter of the five-pound note."
+
+"Cleared?" said Alison, springing forward, and her eyes lighting up.
+
+"Yes, darlin', cleared," said Jim boldly.  "I always knew you were as
+innocent as the dawn, and now all the world will know it.  Sampson,
+good fellow, ferreted out the truth, and it seems--it seems that Louisa
+is the thief.  Sampson can give you all particulars himself to-morrow;
+but I have come here now to talk on a matter of much more importance.
+I have always loved you, Alison, from the first day I set eyes on you.
+From that first moment I gave you all my heart; my life was yours, my
+happiness yours, and all the love I am capable of.  In an evil hour a
+shadow came atween us; I was mad at losing you, and I asked Louisa to
+wed me; but though I'd 'a' been true to her--for a promise is a
+promise--I'd have been the most miserable man what ever lived, for my
+heart would have been yours.  I'd have committed a sin, an awful sin,
+but, thank God, I am saved from that now.  Louisa herself has set me
+free.  There's her letter; you can read it if you want to."
+
+Jim pulled it out of his pocket, and thrust it before Alison's dazzled
+eyes.
+
+"No, no!" she said, pushing it from her; "your word is enough.  I don't
+want to see the letter."
+
+She hid her face in her shaking hands.
+
+"I was always true to you," continued Jim, "in heart at least; and now
+I want to know if there is any reason why you and me should not be wed
+after all.  I have got money enough, and I can wed you and give you a
+nice home as soon as ever the banns are read, and there'll be a corner
+for Grannie too, by our fireside.  Come, Alison, is there any reason,
+any impediment? as they say in the marriage service.  There aint really
+any other feller, is there, Ally?  That was a sort of way to cheat me,
+Ally; wasn't it, darlin'?"
+
+"Oh, Jim, yes, yes," cried Alison.  "I always loved you with all my
+heart.  I loved you more than ever the day I gave you up, but I was
+proud, and I misunderstood, and--and--oh, I can say no more; but I love
+you, Jim, I love you.  Oh, my heart is like to burst, but it is all
+happiness now, for I love you so well--so true--so very, very dearly."
+
+"Then that's all right," he answered solemnly.  He took her into his
+arms there and then and held her fast to his beating heart.  They
+kissed each other many times.
+
+Alison and Jim were married, and Grannie went to live with them.  She
+was indispensable to the brightness of their home, and even more
+indispensable to the success of their little shop; for Grannie had a
+natural turn for business, and if her eyes were the kindest in all the
+world, they were also the sharpest to detect the least thing not
+perfectly straight in those with whom she had to deal.  So the shop,
+started on thoroughly business principles, flourished well.  And the
+young pair were happy, and the other children by and by made a good
+start in the world, and Grannie's face beamed more and more lovingly as
+the years went on, but never to her dying day did she reveal the secret
+of her visit to the workhouse.
+
+"It was the one piece of bad luck in all my happy life," she was wont
+to murmur to herself, then she would smile and perk up her little
+figure.  "Lord knows, I needn't ha' been frighted," she would add;
+"comin' o' the breed of the Phippses and Simpsons, I might ha' known it
+wouldn't last--the luck o' the family bein' wot it is."
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+THE FLOWERS' WORK
+
+"See, mother!  I've finished my bouquet.  Isn't it beautiful?  More so,
+I think, than those made by the florist which he asked two dollars for,
+and this has cost me but seventy-five cents."
+
+"Yes, yes, it is very pretty.  But, dear me, child, I cannot help
+thinking how illy we can spare so much for such a very useless thing.
+Almost as much as you can make in a day it has cost."
+
+"Don't say _useless_, mother.  It will express to Edward our
+appreciation of his exertions and their result, and our regards.  How
+he has struggled to obtain a profession!  I only wish I could cover the
+platform with bouquets, baskets and wreaths tonight, when he receives
+his diploma."
+
+"Well, well; if it will do any good, I shall not mind the expense.
+But, child, he will know it is from you, and men don't care for such
+things coming from home folks.  Now, if it was from any other young
+lady, I expect he'd be mightily pleased."
+
+"Oh, mother, I don't think so.  Edward will think as much of it, coming
+from his sister-in-law, as from any other girl.  And it will please
+Kate, too.  If _we_ do not think enough of him to send him bouquets,
+who else could?  Rest easy, mother, dear; I feel quite sure my bouquet
+will do much good," answered Annie, putting her bouquet in a glass of
+water.
+
+She left the room to make her simple toilet for the evening.
+
+Mrs. Grey had been widowed when her two little girls were in their
+infancy.  It had been a hard struggle for the mother to raise her
+children.  Constant toil, privation and anxiety had worn heavily on her
+naturally delicate constitution, until she had become a confirmed
+invalid.  But there was no longer a necessity for her toiling.  Katy,
+the elder daughter, was married; and Annie, a loving, devoted girl,
+could now return the mother's long and loving care.  By her needle she
+obtained a support for herself and mother.
+
+Katy's husband held a position under the government, receiving a small
+compensation, only sufficient for the necessities of the present, and
+of very uncertain continuance.  He was ambitious of doing better than
+this for himself, as well as his family.  So he employed every spare
+hour in studying medicine, and it was the night that he was to receive
+his diploma that my little story begins.
+
+The exercises of the evening were concluded.  Edward Roberts came down
+the aisle to where his wife and Annie were seated, bearing his
+flowers--an elegant basket, tastefully arranged, and a beautiful
+bouquet.  But it needed only a quick glance for Annie to see it was not
+_her_ bouquet.  Although the flowers were fragrant and rare, they were
+not so carefully selected or well chosen.  Hers expressed not alone her
+affection and appreciation, but _his_ energy, perseverance and success.
+
+"Why, where is my bouquet?  I do not see it," asked Annie, a look of
+disappointment on her usually bright face.
+
+"Yours?  I do not know.  Did you send me one?" returned her
+brother-in-law.
+
+"Indeed I did.  And such a beauty, too!  It is too bad!  I suppose it
+is the result of the stupidity of the young man in whose hands I placed
+it.  I told him plain enough it was for you, and your name, with mine,
+was on the card," answered Annie, really very much provoked.
+
+"Well, do not fret, little sister; I am just as much obliged; and
+perchance some poor fellow not so fortunate as I may have received it,"
+answered Edward Roberts.
+
+"Don't, for pity's sake, let mother know of the mistake, or whatever it
+is, that has robbed you of your bouquet.  She will fret dreadfully
+about it," said Annie.
+
+All that night, until she was lost in sleep, did she constantly repeat:
+
+"I wonder who has got it?"
+
+She had failed to observe on the list of graduates the name of _Edgar
+Roberts_, from Ohio, or she might have had an idea into whose hands her
+bouquet had fallen.  Her brother Edward, immediately on hearing Annie's
+exclamation, thought how the mistake had occurred, and was really glad
+that it was as it was; for the young man whose name was so nearly like
+his own was a stranger in the city, and Edward had noticed his
+receiving _one_ bouquet only, which of course was the missing one, and
+Annie's.
+
+Edgar Roberts sat in his room that night, after his return from the
+distribution of diplomas, holding in his hand Annie's bouquet, and on
+the table beside him was a floral dictionary.  An expression of
+gratification was on his pleasant face, and, as again and again his
+eyes turned from the flowers to seek their interpreter, his lips were
+wreathed with smiles, and he murmured low:
+
+"Annie Grey!  Sweet Annie Grey!  I never dreamed of any one in this
+place knowing or caring enough for me to send such a tribute.  How
+carefully these flowers are chosen!  What a charming, appreciative
+little girl she is!  Pretty, I know, of course.  I wonder how she came
+to send me this?  How shall I find her?  Find her I must, and know her."
+
+And Edgar Roberts fell asleep to dream of Annie Grey, and awoke in the
+morning whispering the last words of the night before:
+
+"Sweet Annie Grey!"
+
+During the day he found it quite impossible to fix his mind on his
+work; mind and heart were both occupied with thoughts of Annie Grey.
+And so it continued to be until Edgar Roberts was really in love with a
+girl he knew not, nor had ever seen.  To find her was his fixed
+determination.  But how delicately he must go about it.  He could not
+make inquiry among his gentlemen acquaintances without speculations
+arising, and a name sacred to him then, passed from one to another,
+lightly spoken, perhaps.  Then he bethought himself of the city
+directory; he would consult that.  And so doing he found Greys
+innumerable--some in elegant, spacious dwellings, some in the business
+thoroughfares of the place.  The young ladies of the first mentioned,
+he thought, living in fashionable life, surrounded by many admirers,
+would scarcely think of bestowing any token of regard or appreciation
+on a poor unknown student.  The next would have but little time to
+devote to such things; and time and thought were both spent in the
+arrangement of his bouquet.  Among the long list of Greys he found one
+that attracted him more than all the others--a widow, living in a quiet
+part of the city, quite near his daily route.  So he sought and found
+the place and exact number.  Fortune favored him.  Standing at the door
+of a neat little frame cottage he beheld a young girl talking with two
+little children.  She was not the blue-eyed, golden-haired girl of his
+dreams, but a sweet, earnest dove-eyed darling.  And what care he,
+whether her eyes were blue or brown, if her name were only Annie?  Oh,
+how could he find out that?
+
+She was bidding the little ones "good-bye."  They were off from her, on
+the sidewalk, when the elder child--a bright, laughing boy of
+five--sang out, kissing his little dimpled hand:
+
+"Good-bye, Annie, darling!"
+
+Edgar Roberts felt as if he would like to clasp the little fellow to
+the heart he had relieved of all anxiety.  No longer a doubt was in his
+mind.  He had found his Annie Grey.
+
+From that afternoon, twice every day he passed the cottage of the widow
+Grey, frequently seeing sweet Annie.  This, however, was his only
+reward.  She never seemed at all conscious of his presence.  Often her
+eyes would glance carelessly toward him.  Oftener they were never
+raised from her work.  Sewing by the window, she always was.
+
+What next?  How to proceed, on his fixed determination of winning her,
+if possible?
+
+Another bright thought.  He felt pretty sure she attended church
+somewhere; perhaps had a class in the Sabbath school.  So the next
+Sunday morning, at an early hour, he was commanding a view of Annie's
+home.  When the school bells commenced to ring, he grew very anxious.
+A few moments, and the door opened and the object of his thoughts
+stepped forth.  How beautiful she looked in her pretty white suit!  Now
+Edgar felt his cause was in the ascendancy.  Some distance behind, and
+on the other side of the street, he followed, ever keeping her in view
+until he saw her enter a not far distant church.  Every Sunday after
+found him an attentive listener to the Rev. Mr. Ashton, who soon became
+aware of the presence of the young gentleman so regularly, and
+apparently so much interested in the services.  So the good man sought
+an opportunity to speak to Edgar, and urge his accepting a charge in
+the Sabbath school.  We can imagine Edgar needed no great urging on
+that subject; so, frequently, he stood near his Annie.  In the library,
+while selecting books for their pupils, once or twice they had met, and
+he had handed to her the volume for which her hand was raised.  Of
+course a smile and bow of acknowledgment and thanks rewarded him.
+
+Edgar was growing happier, and more confident of final success every
+week, when an event came which promised a speedy removal of all
+difficulty in his path.  The school was going to have a picnic.  Then
+and there he would certainly have an introduction to Annie, and after
+spending a whole day with her, he would accompany her home and win the
+privilege of calling often.
+
+The day of the picnic dawned brightly, and the happy party gathered on
+the deck of the steamer.  The first person who met Edgar Roberts' eye
+was his fellow-student, Edward Roberts.  Standing beside him were two
+ladies and some children.  When Edgar hastened up to speak to his
+friend, the ladies turned, and Edward presented:
+
+"My wife; my sister, Miss Grey."
+
+Edgar Roberts could scarcely suppress an exclamation of joy and
+surprise.  His looks fully expressed how delighted he was.
+
+Three months had he been striving for this, which, if he had only known
+it, could have been obtained so easily through his friend and her
+brother.  But what was so difficult to win was the more highly prized.
+What a happy day it was!
+
+Annie was all he had believed her--charming in every way.  Edgar made a
+confidant of his friend; told him what Edward well knew before, but was
+wise enough not to explain the mistake--of his hopes and fears; and won
+from the prudent brother the promise to help him all he could.
+
+Accompanying Annie home that evening, and gaining her permission for
+him to call again, Edgar lost no time in doing so, and often repeated
+the call.
+
+Perhaps Annie thought him very fast in his wooing, and precipitate in
+declaring his love, when, after only a fortnight visiting her, he said:
+
+"Annie, do you like me well enough, and trust in me sufficiently, to
+allow me to ask your mother to call me her son?"
+
+Either so happy or so surprised was Annie, that she could not speak
+just then.  But roses crowded over her fair face, and she did not try
+to withdraw the hand he had clasped.
+
+"Say, Annie, love," he whispered.  She raised her eyes to his with such
+a strange, surprised look in them, that he laughed and said:
+
+"You think I am very hasty, Annie.  You don't know how long I've loved
+you, and have waited for this hour."
+
+"Long!--two weeks," she said.
+
+"Why, Annie, darling, it is over three months since I've been able to
+think of anything save Annie Grey--ever since the night I received my
+diploma, and your sweet, encouraging bouquet, since that night I've
+known and loved you.  And how I've worked for this hour!"
+
+And then he told her how it was.  And when he had finished, she looked
+at him, her eyes dancing merrily, and though she tried hard to keep the
+little rosebud of a mouth demurely shut, it was no use--it would open
+and let escape a rippling laugh, as she said:
+
+"And this is the work my bouquet went about, is it?  This is the good
+it has done me--"  She hesitated; the roses deepened their color as she
+continued: "And you--"
+
+"Yes, Annie, it has done much good to me, and I hope to you too."
+
+"But, Edgar--" it was the first time she had called him thus, and how
+happy it made him--"I must tell you the truth--I never sent you a
+bouquet!"
+
+"No! oh, do not say so.  Can there be another such Annie Grey?"
+
+"No; I am the one who sent the bouquet; but, Edgar, you received it
+through a mistake.  It was intended for my brother-in-law, Edward!"
+
+"Stop, Annie, a moment--  Are you sorry that mistake was made?  Do you
+regret it?" said Edgar, his voice filled with emotion.
+
+"No indeed, I am very glad you received it instead," Annie ingenuously
+replied; adding quickly, "But, please, do not tell Edward I said so."
+
+"No, no; I will not tell him that you care a little more for _Edgar_
+than _Edward_.  Is that it?  May I think so, Annie?"
+
+She nodded her head, and he caught her to his heart, whispering:
+
+"Mine at last.  My Annie, darling!  What a blessed mistake it was!  May
+I go to your mother, Annie?"
+
+"Yes; and I'll go with you, Edgar, and hear if she will admit those
+flowers did any good.  She thought it a useless expenditure."
+
+The widow Grey had become very much attached to the kind, attentive
+young man, and when he came with Annie, and asked her blessing on their
+love, she gave it willingly; and after hearing all about the way it
+happened, she said:
+
+"Never did flowers such a good work before.  They carried Edgar to
+church, made a Christian of him, and won for Annie a good, devoted
+husband, and for me an affectionate son."
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+FAMOUS BOOKS IN REBOUND EDITIONS
+
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+HEIDI
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+A Child's Story of Life in the Alps
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+By Johanna Spyri
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+PINOCCHIO
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+A Tale of a Puppet--By C. Collodi
+
+
+ELSIE DINSMORE
+
+By Martha Finley
+
+
+BROWNIES AND OTHER STORIES
+
+Illustrated by Palmer Cox
+
+
+HELEN'S BABIES
+
+By John Habberton
+
+
+HANS BRINKER; or, The Silver Skates
+
+By Mary Mapes Dodge
+
+
+RAINY DAY DIVERSIONS
+
+By Carolyn Wells
+
+
+PLEASANT DAY DIVERSIONS
+
+By Carolyn Wells
+
+
+
+M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
+
+701-763 So. Dearborn Street.
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Luck, by L. T. Meade
+
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