at I knew how much I was indebted to him." Then suddenly turning
from her, he looked stedfastly towards the open door. "It rains cats
and dogs, mother; you surely cannot refuse me a bed on such a night?"

"I have already told you, I have no bed to spare. To speak the plain
truth," added she, with a grim smile, "I don't like your hang-dog face,
and want none of your company. If you're afraid of a shadow, you are
either a great coward, or a big fool. I despise both characters. If not,
you are a designing rogue, and enough of such folks come here every
night."

"I will pay you well for the accommodation," urged Noah, without
noticing or resenting Martha's malignant speech.

"Mother, he be as rich as a Jew," whispered Josh, in her ear.

The hint, disregarded by Mrs. Mason, was not unheeded by Sophy
Grimshawe, who, gliding across the room, said, in a soft, persuasive
voice: "Mr. Cotton, if you will step into the next house, I will give
you my bed for the night."

"The bold hussy!" muttered Martha.

"Is it far to go?" and Noah shuddered, as he glanced into the black
night.

"Only a step; just out of one door into the other. If you be afraid,"
she continued, looking up into his gloomy but handsome face with an arch
smile, "I will protect you. I am afraid of thunder, but not of ghosts.
Come along; depend upon it we shall not see anything worse than
ourselves."

"There's many a true word spoken at random," said Martha, glancing after
the twain, as the door closed upon them. "I'll bet all I'm worth in the
world that that fellow is not afraid of nothing; he's troubled with a
bad conscience. He's a hateful, unlucky-looking fellow! I'm glad that
bold girl relieved me of his company."

"Martha," said Josh, "you're far wrong this time. Noah Cotton do bear an
excellent character; an' then he has lots o' cash." This circumstance,
apparently, gave him great importance in the poor man's eyes. "That
Squire Carlos, who wor murdered by Bill Martin, left in his will a mort
a' money to Noah Cotton. People do say that he wor his son."

"A likely story, that!" cried the woman, tossing up her head.

"He is very like the Squire, at any rate," said the little tailor. "I
knew him for several years, and always found him a decent quiet fellow;
rather proud, and fond of dressing above his rank, perhaps. But then, he
always paid his tailor's bill like a gentleman. Indeed, many that I make
for, who call themselves gentlemen, might take patte