see 'ow things turns out, like."

'"I'm goin' to lead a better life," 'e goes on, "an' stop puttin' baccy
ash in my pocket, an' dustin' my boots with my handkercher, an' all
those little things that a gentle woman might find careless."'

'Elizabeth,' I put in weakly, 'this is terrible. I do not want Mr.
Rawlings to make any sacrifices for me. I do not want Mr. Rawlings.
Nothing in the world would make me consider his suit.'

''Is suit's all right if it were well brushed an' pressed,' she said.
'An if 'e isn't quite a fancy style 'isself we can't all pick an'
choose in this world. Don't go despisin' of 'im too much, miss. If 'e
was properly done up, now, and sort o' dusted an' polished, like, 'e
mightn't be so bad.'

I turned on her with burning indignation. 'How dare you openly assist
his plans after confessing to taking his money as a bribe? Don't
mention his name to me again, or I shall refuse to listen to you.'

She actually had the impertinence to look indignant. 'It's shame I cry
on you, miss, for tryin' to break the pore man's 'eart. Then I s'pose
I can't give 'im that there fotograft of you?'

'My photograph! Of all the unspeakable----'

'It was with 'im sayin' that if 'e only 'ad it to look at it might 'elp
to parss all the dark 'ours 'e 'as to spend away from you. 'E sed 'e
wanted it to look at wen 'e was lyin' awake at night, thinkin' of you.'

I strove to be reasonable. 'To let him have my photo, Elizabeth, would
only encourage his mad ideas. No, all this must be stopped
immediately. I shall take prompt measures. Once more, let me beg of
you never to mention this painful occurrence to any one.' I turned to
go out of the kitchen, but when I reached the door Elizabeth called to
me. 'I wanted to ask you a favour, miss, if it isn't troublin' you too
much,' she began.

'What is it?' I inquired rather absently, for my mind was very much
disturbed just then.

'You see, miss, it's this way. I gotta young man wot's very poetick,
like. 'E's always sendin' me portry copied from mottoes out o'
crackers. It's very 'ard to keep up with 'im.'

'Then how do you want me to help you?' I asked, puzzled.

'I wondered if you'd be so kind as to copy me a bit o' portry I sor in
one o' master's books. It sounds real pretty, but I can't get it down
right. My 'andwritin' is that bad.' She took a leather-bound volume
of Byron from the kitchen drawer. 'It's just this yere bit:--

"Yet, oh, yet thy