ainst it. I'll go to him now, before he's up, and I'll
tell him you're here. I'll bring him to his senses if I can. I don't
know whatever made him think so much about gentlemen."

"He didn't learn it from you, Polly."

"Perhaps he did, after all; and if so, that's the more reason why I'd
forgive him." So saying, Polly went up-stairs upon her mission. On
the landing she met her mother, and made known the fact that Ontario
was in the parlour. "Don't you go to him, mother;--not yet," said
Polly. Whereby it may be presumed that Mrs. Neefit had been informed
of Mr. Moggs's visit before Polly had gone to him.

Mr. Neefit was in bed, and his condition apparently was not a happy
one. He was lying with his head between his hands, and was groaning,
not loudly, but very bitterly. His mode of life for the last month
had not been of a kind to make him comfortable, and his conscience,
too, was ill at ease. He had been a hard-working man, who had loved
respectability and been careful of his wife and child. He had been
proud to think that nobody could say anything against him, and that
he had always paid his way. Up to the time of this disastrous fit of
ambition on Polly's behalf he had never made himself ridiculous, and
had been a prosperous tradesman, well thought of by his customers.
Suddenly he had become mad, but not so mad as to be unconscious
of his own madness. The failure of his hopes, joined to the
inexpressibly bitter feeling that in their joint transactions young
Newton had received all that had been necessary to him, whereas he,
Neefit, had got none of that for which he had bargained,--these
together had so upset him that he had lost his balance, had travelled
out of his usual grooves, and had made an ass of himself. He knew he
had made an ass of himself,--and was hopelessly endeavouring to show
himself to be less of an ass than people thought him, by some success
in his violence. If he could only punish young Newton terribly,
people would understand why he had done all this. But drink had been
necessary to give him courage for his violence, and now as he lay
miserable in bed, his courage was very low.

"Father," said Polly, "shall I give you a drink?" Neefit muttered
something, and took the cold tea that was offered to him. It was
cold tea, with just a spoonful of brandy in it to make it acceptable.
"Father, there ought to be an end of all this;--oughtn't there?"

"I don't know about no ends. I'll be down on him yet.