in a meek voice, "if I had
the words." It was the last of the worthy young woman's collection.

"O, 'Fleuve du Tage,'" Miss Maria cried; "we have the song," and went
off to fetch the book in which it was.

Now it happened that this song, then in the height of the fashion, had
been given to the young ladies by a young friend of theirs, whose name
was on the title, and Miss Swartz, having concluded the ditty with
George's applause (for he remembered that it was a favourite of
Amelia's), was hoping for an encore perhaps, and fiddling with the
leaves of the music, when her eye fell upon the title, and she saw
"Amelia Sedley" written in the comer.

"Lor!" cried Miss Swartz, spinning swiftly round on the music-stool,
"is it my Amelia? Amelia that was at Miss P.'s at Hammersmith? I know
it is. It's her, and-- Tell me about her--where is she?"

"Don't mention her," Miss Maria Osborne said hastily. "Her family has
disgraced itself. Her father cheated Papa, and as for her, she is
never to be mentioned HERE." This was Miss Maria's return for George's
rudeness about the Battle of Prague.

"Are you a friend of Amelia's?" George said, bouncing up. "God bless
you for it, Miss Swartz. Don't believe what the girls say. SHE'S not
to blame at any rate. She's the best--"

"You know you're not to speak about her, George," cried Jane. "Papa
forbids it."

"Who's to prevent me?" George cried out. "I will speak of her. I say
she's the best, the kindest, the gentlest, the sweetest girl in
England; and that, bankrupt or no, my sisters are not fit to hold
candles to her. If you like her, go and see her, Miss Swartz; she
wants friends now; and I say, God bless everybody who befriends her.
Anybody who speaks kindly of her is my friend; anybody who speaks
against her is my enemy. Thank you, Miss Swartz"; and he went up and
wrung her hand.

"George! George!" one of the sisters cried imploringly.

"I say," George said fiercely, "I thank everybody who loves Amelia
Sed--" He stopped. Old Osborne was in the room with a face livid with
rage, and eyes like hot coals.

Though George had stopped in his sentence, yet, his blood being up, he
was not to be cowed by all the generations of Osborne; rallying
instantly, he replied to the bullying look of his father, with another
so indicative of resolution and defiance that the elder man quailed in
his turn, and looked away. He felt that the tussle was coming. "Mrs.
Haggistoun, let me ta