nied by a feeble
attempt to gather her poor garments close round her feet as Dumps
sniffed at her skirts and agitated his ridiculous tail.

"It's only my dog, granny,"--I had of late adopted this term of
endearment; "a very quiet well-behaved creature, I assure you, that
seems too amiable to bite. Why, he appears to have a tendency to claim
acquaintance with everybody. I do believe he knows _you_!"

"No, no, he doesn't. Put him out; pray put him out," said the old
woman, in alarm.

Grieved that I had unintentionally roused her fear, I opened the door
and called Dumps. My doggie rose, with his three indicators erect and
expectant.

"Go out, sir, and lie down!"

The indicators slowly drooped, and Dumps crawled past in abject
humility. Shutting the door, I returned.

"I hope you don't dislike little boys as well as little dogs, granny,
because I have brought one to wait for me here. You won't mind his
sitting at the door until I go?"

"No, no!" said Mrs Willis quickly; "I like little boys--when--when
they're good," she added, after a pause.

"Say I'm one o' the good sort, sir," suggested Slidder, in a hoarse
whisper. "Of course, it ain't true, but wot o' that, if it relieves her
mind?"

Taking no notice of this remark, I again sat down beside my old woman.

"What were you going to say about being puzzled, granny?"

"Puzzled, doctor! did I say I was puzzled?"

"Yes, but pray don't call me doctor. I'm not quite fledged yet, you
know. Call me Mellon, or John. Well, you were saying--"

"Oh, I remember. I was only going to say that I've been puzzled a good
deal of late by that text in which David says, `I have never seen the
righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.' Now, my father and
mother were both good Christians, and, although I cannot claim to be a
_good_ one myself, I do claim to be a poor follower of Jesus. Yet here
am I--"

She paused.

"Well, granny," said I, "are you forsaken?"

"Nay, John, God forbid that I should say so; but am I not a beggar? Ah
pride, pride, you are hard to kill!"

"_Are_ you a beggar?" I asked in a tone of surprise. "When did you beg
last, granny?"

"Is not a recipient of charity a beggar?"

"No," I replied stoutly, "he is not. A solicitor of charity is a
beggar, but a recipient thereof is not. In your case it was I who was
the beggar. Do you not remember when I found you first, without a crust
in the house, how I had to beg and entreat you to