Mr. Greatheart nodded--indicating that Mr. Dodson's unselfish character was well known to him. “'No, no, Maria,' says he, 'a doctor can do no good to me. I'm a tough old fellow*--speaking that way to me, being long with him--'I'll be all right to-morrow.' But I made bold to put a glass of brandy in his room, and pleaded with him to ring the bell if he was unwell--he was not easily managed--and that was all I could do, sir.” Her hearer was of opinion that from what he knew of Mr. Dodson's native obstinacy, Maria Wilkins had done all in the power of mortal woman, and possibly, more, than could have been accomplished by any man. “Twice during the night I rose and listened at his door--his face, when he said good-night, lyin' heavy on me, so to say--and I heard nothing; but when he didn't answer in the mornin' I took it on me to open the door. Mr. Dodson was a-sittin' up in his bed, and at the sight of his face I knew how it was, havin' seen death many times. My old master... was gone,” and the housekeeper yielded to her feelings. “Dear, dear! So Sam Dodson is gone; an able and successful merchant, one who always met his obligations, and whose word was as good as his bond; he had a warmer heart than any person knew. I've seen a look in his face at a time, and am sure that he did good in his own way.” “God bless you for that, sir! but it's what I could have looked for from you, if I may say it without offence. And you never spoke a truer word, and that I can testify as has lived with master for a lifetime, and could tell the difference between the outside and the inside.” “Ah, yes, you saw the real man, Maria; but he was sometimes... well, hidden from the public.” “He had his peculiarities, and 'oo hasn't, I say? Now, my wages when I came to him was just fourteen pounds, and they're just fourteen yet; but every Christmas, for many a year, master slipped a ten-pound note into my hand. 'Put that into your bank, Maria,' he would say, 'and never tell anybody you've got it.' “As for food, he was aggravatin', for he would have nothing as was not plain, and he would check the books to a ha'penny; but if you was ill, why, he would bring home grapes with his own hand. We dare not for our lives give a morsel to beggars at the door, but if he heard of a poor family, nothin' would serve him but he would go and find out all about them.” “That's my Dodson, just as I imagined him,” cried Mr. Greatheart; “tell me more, Maria; it's excellent, every word.” “Do you think he would let any person know he was givin' help? Not he; and he was artful, was master. Why, I've known him send me with money to a clergyman, that he might give it, and his words were, 'No name, Maria, or we part; just a citizen of Liverpool.'” “Dodson all over! shrewd and unassuming, and full of charity. Have you anything else to tell, Maria?”