he numbers at the sides, ye mean, Pole?"

"Ay, the numbers at the sides, if you like; the 21593, and so on?"

"The 21593! Oh! I can't remember such a lot as that, if ever I leave off
repeatin' it."

"There! you see, you're not fit to have money in your possession,
Martha. Everybody who has bank-notes looks at the numbers. You have a
trick of fancying all sorts of sums in your pocket; and when you
don't find them there, of course they're lost! Now, let's have some
breakfast."

Arabella told the maids to go out. Mr. Pole turned to the
breakfast-table, rubbing his hands. Seeing herself and her case
abandoned, Mrs. Chump gave a deplorable shout. "Ye're crool! and young
women that look on at a fellow-woman's mis'ry. Oh! how can ye do ut! But
soft hearts can be the hardest. And all my seventy-five gone, gone! and
no law out of annybody. And no frightenin' of 'em off from doin' the
like another time! Oh, I will, I will have my money!"

"Tush! Come to breakfast, Martha," said Mr. Pole. "You shall have money,
if you want it; you have only to ask. Now, will you promise to be quiet?
and I'll give you this money--the amount you've been dreaming about last
night. I'll fetch it. Now, let us have no scenes. Dry your eyes."

Mr. Pole went to his private room, and returned just as Mrs. Chump
had got upon a succession of quieter sobs with each one of which she
addressed a pathetic roll of her eyes to the utterly unsympathetic
ladies respectively.

"There, Martha; there's exactly the sum for you--free gift. Say thank
you, and eat a good breakfast to show your gratitude. Mind, you take
this money on condition that you let the servants know you made a
mistake."

Mrs. Chump sighed heavily, crumpling the notes, that the crisp sweet
sound might solace her for the hard condition.

"And don't dream any more--not about money, I mean," said Mr. Pole.

"Oh! if I dream like that I'll be living double." Mrs. Chump put her
hand to the notes, and called him kind, and pitied him for being the
loser. The sight of a fresh sum in her possession intoxicated her. It
was but feebly that she regretted the loss to her Samuel Bolton Pole.
"Your memory's worth more than that!" she said as she filled her purse
with the notes. "Anyhow, now I can treat somebody," and she threw a wink
of promise at Adela. Adela's eyes took refuge with her papa, who leaned
over to her, and said: "You won't mind waiting till you see me again?
She's taken all I had." Adela n