of him, lest I should
thwart any schemes you may have upon his property. I thank you all for
your kindness to me, which has been very great, far more than a little
dwarfish creature could, for her own sake, expect. I will only add for
your further guidance one more little truth. It is by no means certain
that my grandfather will settle any of his miserable money upon me. If
I offend him, as I would in a moment, for the sake of a brave and
straightforward man"--here she gave me a glance which I scarcely knew
what to do with--"my grandfather, upright as he is, would leave me
without a shilling. And I often wish it were so. So many miseries come
upon me from the miserable money--" Here she broke down, and burst out
crying, and ran away with a faint good-bye; while we three looked at one
another, and felt that we had the worst of it.

"Impudent little dwarf!" said my mother, recovering her breath after
ever so long. "Oh, John, how thankful you ought to be! What a life she
would have led you!"

"Well, I am sure!" said Annie, throwing her arms around poor mother:
"who could have thought that little atomy had such an outrageous spirit!
For my part I cannot think how she can have been sly enough to hide it
in that crafty manner, that John might think her an angel!"

"Well, for my part," I answered, laughing, "I never admired Ruth
Huckaback half, or a quarter so much before. She is rare stuff. I would
have been glad to have married her to-morrow, if I had never seen my
Lorna."

"And a nice nobody I should have been, in my own house!" cried mother:
"I never can be thankful enough to darling Lorna for saving me. Did you
see how her eyes flashed?"

"That I did; and very fine they were. Now nine maidens out of ten would
have feigned not to have heard one word that was said, and have borne
black malice in their hearts. Come, Annie, now, would not you have done
so?"

"I think," said Annie, "although of course I cannot tell, you know,
John, that I should have been ashamed at hearing what was never meant
for me, and should have been almost as angry with myself as anybody."

"So you would," replied my mother; "so any daughter of mine would have
done, instead of railing and reviling. However, I am very sorry that any
words of mine which the poor little thing chose to overhear should have
made her so forget herself. I shall beg her pardon before she goes, and
I shall expect her to beg mine."

"That she will never do," said I; "a