rls to tumble up as best they could. It was thought by Dorothy Burrow
and others, ridiculous to try to make Jack into a Bristol tradesman and
Jim the farmer. But Jim was no favourite with his mother. She set great
store on appearances, and Jim had a squint and a wide mouth, a freckled
face, with carroty hair, while Jack was in his mother's eyes, and in the
eyes of other people also, a fine handsome fellow, with eyes of a deep
blue, and chestnut hair curling lightly on his shapely head.

Mrs Henderson trusted to Jack to set the family up by becoming a partner
at last in Mr Henderson's business, he being a bachelor, and with no son
to succeed him.

'There's a great talk about these poor Palmers, Jack,' his mother said,
dropping her work as the light failed. 'The old man is ruined. Money he
borrowed of old Squire Bayfield has to be paid back. And it all came
from that worthless son of his years agone having to leave the country
to escape the gallows. Farmer Short was here to-day and was telling me
all about it. A nice come down for these two girls, especially the
eldest, who thinks herself a wit and a beauty. She'll have to go to
service, if anybody will take such a useless piece of goods!'

'Good-night, mother,' was Jack's only reply. 'I'm tired, and off to
roost--good-night.'

CHAPTER VI

THE SYMPATHY OF POVERTY.

It was one evening early in June, when the days were almost at their
longest, that Mrs Chatterton sprang to the door of her modest little
dwelling in Redcliffe Street to greet her son.

'Welcome, my dear boy, welcome!' And the embrace between mother and son
was as fervent as if they had been parted for a month instead of only
four days. 'Where was you the last evening, Tom?' his mother asked.

'I was walking to and fro in the streets,' was the reply, 'too restless
to come hither to trouble you and sister. By-the-bye, where is Sis?'

'Gone to take a bit of supper with Mrs Edkins, sure, but she will be
returning ere long. You will bear me company till she returns. Have you
had a letter from the grand gentleman in London, Tom?' his mother asked.

Instantly the sunshine on Chatterton's face, which the loving greeting
of his mother had kindled there, was gone; his whole bearing changed.
His eyes flashed, and he exclaimed,--

'Don't weary me with questions, mother. When the great or little man
deigns to reply to me I'll tell you.' Then muttered imprecations
followed, and the boy paced the little r