d fills well
and with respect. To tell you the truth, I think he is; though it sounds
bold in me to say so, for you must know him far better than I do."

"Now, Biddy," said I, "I am very sorry to see this in you. I did not
expect to see this in you. You are envious, Biddy, and grudging. You
are dissatisfied on account of my rise in fortune, and you can't help
showing it."

"If you have the heart to think so," returned Biddy, "say so. Say so
over and over again, if you have the heart to think so."

"If you have the heart to be so, you mean, Biddy," said I, in a virtuous
and superior tone; "don't put it off upon me. I am very sorry to see it,
and it's a--it's a bad side of human nature. I did intend to ask you
to use any little opportunities you might have after I was gone, of
improving dear Joe. But after this I ask you nothing. I am extremely
sorry to see this in you, Biddy," I repeated. "It's a--it's a bad side
of human nature."

"Whether you scold me or approve of me," returned poor Biddy, "you may
equally depend upon my trying to do all that lies in my power, here,
at all times. And whatever opinion you take away of me, shall make
no difference in my remembrance of you. Yet a gentleman should not be
unjust neither," said Biddy, turning away her head.

I again warmly repeated that it was a bad side of human nature (in which
sentiment, waiving its application, I have since seen reason to think I
was right), and I walked down the little path away from Biddy, and
Biddy went into the house, and I went out at the garden gate and took a
dejected stroll until supper-time; again feeling it very sorrowful and
strange that this, the second night of my bright fortunes, should be as
lonely and unsatisfactory as the first.

But, morning once more brightened my view, and I extended my clemency to
Biddy, and we dropped the subject. Putting on the best clothes I had,
I went into town as early as I could hope to find the shops open,
and presented myself before Mr. Trabb, the tailor, who was having his
breakfast in the parlor behind his shop, and who did not think it worth
his while to come out to me, but called me in to him.

"Well!" said Mr. Trabb, in a hail-fellow-well-met kind of way. "How are
you, and what can I do for you?"

Mr. Trabb had sliced his hot roll into three feather-beds, and was
slipping butter in between the blankets, and covering it up. He was a
prosperous old bachelor, and his open window looked into a pro