ified air.

"Yes, miss," said Joey, walking slowly to her.

"Now, tell me the truth, and I will reward you with half-a-crown."

"Yes, miss."

"Did you not put this letter in my book the day before yesterday?"

"Letter, miss! what letter?"

"Don't you deny it, for you know you did; and if you don't tell me the
truth, my father is a magistrate, and I'll have you punished."

"I was told not to tell," replied Joey, pretending to be frightened.
"But you must tell; yes, and tell me immediately."

"I hope you are not angry, miss."

"No, not if you tell the truth."

"I don't exactly know, miss, but a gentleman--"

"What gentleman?"

"A gentleman that came to uncle, miss."

"A gentleman that came to your uncle; well, go on."

"I suppose he wrote the letter, but I'm not sure; and uncle gave me the
letter to put it where you might see it."

"Oh, then, a gentleman, you say, gave your uncle this letter, and your
uncle gave it to you to bring to me. Is that it?"

"Uncle gave me the letter, but I dare say uncle will tell you all about
it, and who the gentleman was."

"Is your uncle come back?"

"He comes back to-night, madam."

"You're sure your uncle did not write the letter?"

"La, miss! uncle write such a letter as that--and to a lady like you--
that would be odd."

"Very odd, indeed!" replied Miss Melissa, who remained a minute or two
in thought. "Well, my lad," said she at last, "I must and will know who
has had the boldness to write this letter to me; and as your uncle
knows, you will bring him here to-morrow, that I may inquire about it;
and let him take care that he tells the truth."

"Yes, miss; I will tell him as soon as he comes home. I hope you are
not angry with me, miss; I did not think there was any harm in putting
into the book such a nice clean letter as that."

"No, I am not angry with you; your uncle is more to blame; I shall
expect him to-morrow about this time. You may go now."

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

IN WHICH THE TINKER MAKES LOVE.

Joey made his obeisance, and departed as if he was frightened, Miss
Melissa watched him: at last she thought, "Tinker or no tinker? that is
the question. No tinker, for a cool hundred, as my father would say;
for, no tinker's boy, no tinker; and that is no tinker's boy. How
clever of him to say that the letter was given him by a gentleman! Now
I can send to him to interrogate him, and have an interview without any
offence to my feelings; and