"When their faces were washed, I hope. Listen to my confession. Pride and hard-heartedness drove me from the neighborhood in which we were married. A thousand pounds did my dear father--God rest his soul--bequeath to me. It dwindled and dwindled--my own fault. I could not say no. One came to me with a melancholy tale which led to a little loan; another came and another and another--I did not make you acquainted with the extent of my transgressions. My dear, I encouraged the needy ones; I even went out of my way to lend, thinking myself a fine fellow, and flapping my wings in praise of my stupidity. Not half I lent came back to me. Then business began to fall off, and I saw that I was in the wrong groove; I had grown into bad ways, and had I remained much longer in the old neighborhood I should have been left without a penny. I thought of our future, of the injustice I was inflicting upon you. 'I will go,' said I, 'where I am not known, while I still have a little to earn a living with, among strangers who, when they borrow, will give me value in return, and where I shall not have to say to poor friends, "Come to me no more; I am poorer than yourselves." I have been foolish and weak; I will be wise and strong. I will grow rich and hard-hearted.' Yes, my dear, that is what I intend, to grow rich, and my heart will not be oppressed by the sight of suffering it is out of my power to relieve. Rachel, I am not so clever as I pretend to be; to speak the truth, I am afraid I am rather given to crowing; and when it is not alone my own welfare, but the welfare of one so dear to me as you are, that is concerned, I tremble, I begin to doubt whether I have done right. Give me your opinion of the step I have taken." She gazed at him with serious, loving, trustful eyes. "It is a wise step, Aaron; I am sure it is. Whatever you do is right, and I am satisfied." Ten o'clock struck, and a knock at the door announced the faithful Prissy, come to put the fire out. She entered with the baby in her arms, sound asleep. She was flushed and excited, and she held her hand over the right side of her face. "Victoria ought to be abed," said Rachel, taking a peep at baby. "She can't go," retorted Prissy, "afore 'er mother's ready to take 'er." "Where is her mother?" asked Aaron. "At the Jolly Sailor Boy, enj'ying of 'erself." "Ah. And where is your aunt?" "At the Jolly Sailor Boy, too, 'aving a 'arf-quartern. There's been a reg'lar row there about Mrs. Macrory's flannin peddicut." "What happened to it?" "It went wrong. Yes, it did. Yer needn't larf. Call me a story, do! I would if I was you!" "No, no, Prissy," said Aaron in a soothing tone. "How did the flannel petticoat go wrong?"