'You've no cause to be jealous, Bessie,' she said, 'it's only a child. But I _do_ think, if I was George's sweetheart'--Bessie's lip curled, and this little expression made the woman's tone more venomous--'I _do_ think,' she added with scornful emphasis, 'that if I was George's sweetheart--O, you needn't curl your lip, Bessie!--I should ask him--who--Tottie's--father--was! A woman isn't worth that'--with a snap of her finger--'if she hasn't got a spirit.' And George's discarded left Bessie white and trembling, with this wound in her heart. Bessie looked after the woman, dazed for a few moments by the accusation conveyed in the words; then she became suddenly indignant, and the blood rushed back to her face and neck; it dyed her bosom, and she knew it and felt it, and felt the stab there also. Then she hurried home. Ben Sparrow did not notice her agitation at first; he was too much rejoiced at the lifting of a heavy weight from him. In the morning ruin had stared him in the face; a small creditor had come down upon him; had given him twenty-four hours to pay an account which, trifling as it was, he was not possessed of. But young Mr. Million had been to see him and had saved him. He would be able to pay this hard creditor--I am ashamed to say for how trifling an amount--in the morning, and he was exultant 'I am only too glad,' this young gentleman had said, 'to have the opportunity of rendering a service to Bessie's grandfather.' When he departed, old Ben Sparrow actually danced in his parlour in thankfulness for the danger escaped. 'Bessie,' cried Ben Sparrow as his granddaughter entered, 'young Mr. Million has been here.' Bessie nodded, scarcely heeding the words. 'He's a gentleman,' continued Ben Sparrow, 'every inch of him; to forget the past, as he does.' 'What past, grandfather?' asked Bessie. 'Forget what?' 'O, nothing--nothing, my dear,' exclaimed Ben hurriedly, and coughing as if something had come up or gone down the wrong way. 'What I say is, he's a gentleman, every inch of him.' 'You said that before, grandfather.' 'Did I? yes, of course. But I'm an old man, Bessie, and you must make allowances. We can't be all bright and fresh, and always happy as my dear child is.' Bessie kissed Ben Sparrow's neck, and laid her head oh his shoulder. 'Always happy, grandfather! Am I always happy?' 'Of course you are, dear child, and it's natural and right and proper. Sorry and grieved, of course, because our sweetheart's going away--but he'll be back soon, never fear. And we'll talk of him every day and every night, my dear, and the time'll fly away'--he blew a light breath--'like that! Ah, my dear! it's only the old that knows how quickly time flies!' Bessie said nothing, but pressed closer to the old shield that had sheltered her from babyhood to womanhood.