She was, as she said, late; and now as she walked along she opened her papers and sorted them, hoping that she had not lost many customers, and resolving that in future Nat and Thady should not hinder her from being in good time at her post. She was somewhat breathless when she reached it, and as she stood in the full blaze of the gaslight in her favorite position, her eyes were shining, and a rich color mantled in her cheeks. She looked positively lovely, and several people turned and stared at her. Her face was of a refined and even noble cast; and the incongruity of the uncovered head and the poor and tattered clothing only made her beauty the more striking. "Ha, ha!" laughed a coarse voice in her ear. She turned quickly,--the dark, rough-looking girl who had accosted her on Saturday night was also standing in the blaze of gaslight; she also carried papers in her hands, and Bet saw that she held uppermost a great pile of the favorite _Evening Star_. "Ha, ha!" she said, beginning to dance round her companion--"handsome Bet Granger! Lovely Bet Granger! But rosy cheeks won't do it, nor eyes that sparkle, nor lips that smile ever so sweet, when the beat's mine! mine! mine! Want an _Evening Star_, sir? Great news of Gordon in the Soudan! Great news from the Soudan! Soudan! _Evening Star!_ Latest particulars! Fifth edition! Only a halfpenny, sir! Want an _Evening Star_, sir?" "I think this is the girl who always serves me," said the gentleman now addressed. He turned to Bet, and asked her for a copy of the paper. "I have only got the _Evening News,_" she replied, in a dull, lifeless voice. "Then I will take that," he said kindly. He paid Bet the halfpenny, and went into his club. "You had no right to do that, my pretty dear," said the dark girl. "I paid fifteen shillin' for your beat only this morning. I said as I were willing to buy, and your father he come and axed me, and I give him the money. What's the matter, Bet? You needn't look like that. Fair play's fair play, and the beat's mine now--I paid for it. You ain't of age," she added with a taunting laugh, "and your father had a right to sell, and the beat's mine now." "Maybe you are telling me a lie," said Bet, still in that queer dull voice. "Some people don't mind telling lies, and you're one of them. I intend to go on selling papers here until you can prove as the beat's yourn." "Bless your heart, I can do that now--here. I suppose you know your own father's writing? See, there's light enough under the gas for you to read. There--see for yourself what he have said." The black-eyed girl held up a dirty piece of paper for Bet's inspection. Like a flash she took in the meaning of the few words scribbled on it. "This is to certify that I has sold the newspaper beat of my daughter, Elizabeth Granger, to Louisa Marks for the sum of fifteen shillings.--JAMES GRANGER." "It's all right," said Louisa, as Bet handed her back the paper. "You haven't a word to say again it, have you?"