It was Mary's pure, innocent, but dejected countenance, that had induced him to make her the subject of one of his most costly experiments. He thought if there was such a thing as honesty in the world, that it would find a fit refuge in that young bosom; and the early hour, and the direction in which she was coming, led him to hope that he might sing _Eureka_ at last. When he entered the shop, Leah stood behind the counter, as usual, looking very staid and demure; but all she said was,'Good-morning;' and when he inquired if anybody had been there, she quietly answered: 'No; nobody.' Mr Benjamin was confirmed in his axiom; but he consoled himself with the idea, that as the girl was doubtless very poor, the guinea might be of some use to her. In the meantime, Mary was boiling the gruel for her father's breakfast, the only food she could afford him, till she got a few shillings that were owing to her for needle-work. 'Well, father, dear, how are you this morning?' 'I scarce know, Mary. I've been dreaming; and it was so like reality, that I can hardly believe yet it was a dream;' and his eyes wandered over the room, as if looking for something. 'What is it, father? Do you want your breakfast? It will be ready in five minutes.' 'I've been dreaming of a roast fowl and a glass of Scotch ale. Mary, I thought you came in with the fowl, and a bottle in your hand, and said: "See, father, this is what I've bought with the guinea we found in the meal!"' 'But I couldn't do that, father, you know. It wouldn't have been honest to spend other people's money.' 'Nonsense!' answered John. 'Whose money is it, I should like to know? What belongs to no one, we may as well claim as anybody else.' 'But it must belong to somebody; and, as I knew it was not ours, I've carried it back to Mr Benjamin.' 'You have?' said Glegg, sitting up in bed. 'Yes, I have, father. Don't be angry. I'm sure you won't when you think better of it.' But John _was_ very angry indeed. He was dreadfully disappointed at losing the delicacies that his sick appetite hungered for, and which, he fancied, would do more to restore him than all the _doctors' stuff_ in London; and, so far, he was perhaps right. He bitterly reproached Mary for want of sympathy with his sufferings, and was peevish and cross all day. At night, however, his better nature regained the ascendant; and when he saw the poor girl wipe the tears from her eyes, as her nimble needle flew through the seams of a shirt she was making for a cheap warehouse in the Strand, his heart relented, and, holding out his hand, he drew her fondly towards him.