“Just stop one moment,” said she, as Mrs. Martin Barton was pulling her husband by the sleeve to go, she having the candlestick in her hand. “You are going with us to Camperdown to-morrow,” said he, “and you can come in our carriage, and tell us all about it. Poor thing, see how tired she is;” and he looked down, and saw Mrs. Martin Barton on one foot. “Going with you,” said Jenny Hart, her lip quivering, “yes, just for to-morrow; but you’ll see then—you’ll see. But go to bed, for I fear that what I have to say, will rob you of sleep.” “Oh, no,” said Martin Barton, “nothing can keep two such tired souls awake, so say out and have done with it. You see that even poor tired Letty is broad awake, has let go my sleeve, and has put down the candlestick.” “Well, to be sure,” said Mrs. Martin Barton, “a change has come over you. I have not heard you call me Letty this many a day. Speak out Jenny Hart.” “I won’t detain you long,” said Jenny, rising as she spoke, and going near her friends, “We have taken an account of stock you know—and my wages for the last fourteen years, untouched you know, is about equal to the amount of goods. I want you to let Archy Campbell have the goods and the shop, and your good will—and—poor Jenny Hart in the bargain. Archy Campbell has saved money too; will you give your consent?” “No,” thundered out Martin Barton, wide awake, “that I won’t. The goods he may have for nothing, the shop he may have for nothing, and our best good will he may have; but as to your leaving us—no, never. Oh, Jenny Hart, Jenny Hart, can you bear to leave us? You may well cry and take on so, Letty; why it is impossible, Jenny Hart—we could not stand it.” “Oh, Jenny Hart, dear Jenny Hart,” said Mrs. Martin Barton, wide awake now, falling on the afflicted little maiden’s neck, and trembling like a leaf—“don’t leave us, we shall both die if you think of leaving us. Martin Barton, don’t let us go to Camperdown—that is, to live there, I mean. If she will stay, let us remain and keep shop for her as she has done for us.” “Good heaven,” thought Jenny Hart, almost fainting with emotion, “could I have believed that under this untiring money-making spirit there was so much of deep feeling?—and for me too! But I cannot give up Archy Campbell; he has wrought hard for me. If I go with them I must give him up, and that I find I cannot do.” “There is no sleep for us to-night, Jenny”—seeing her hesitate—“how much did you say we were now worth?” “Why, Archy Campbell was just whispering to me as he went out that you were now worth half a million of dollars, besides the large Camperdown property. He has been hard at work with Mr. Norton for the last week.” “Half a million!” said Mrs. Martin Barton; “well, it is really time to leave off selling thread and needles.”