“Darling Cradock, my own dear Cradock, donʼt you know me now? You see, I only love you so because you are so unlucky, and I am so dreadfully obstinate”. “Of course, I know all that, my pet; my beauty inexpressible. And, remember that I only love you so because you are such a darling”. Then Amy told him how sorry she was for having been so fractious lately; and that she would never be so again, only it was all his fault, because she wanted to comfort him, and he would not come and let her—here the softest gleam fluttered through her tears, like the Mazarine Blue among dewdrops—and that only for the veriest chance, and the saucer she had broken—but what of that, she would like to know; it was the surest sign of good luck to them, although it was the best service—only for that, her Crad would have gone—gone away for ever, and never known how she loved him; yes, with all her heart, every single atom of it, every delicious one, if he _must_ know. And she would keep it for him for ever, for ever; and be thinking of him always. Let him recollect that, poor darling, and think of his troubles no more. Then he told her how Uncle John had behaved—how nobly, how magnanimously; and had given every bit of money he possessed in the world for Cradock to start in life with. John Rosedewʼs only child began to cry again at hearing it, and put her little hand into her pocket in the simplest way imaginable. “Yes, you will, dear”; “No, I wonʼt”; went on for several minutes, till Amy nestled quite into his bosom, and put her sweet lips to his ear. “If you donʼt, I will never believe that you love me truly. I am your little wife, you know; and all that I have is yours”. The marriage–portion in debate was no more than five and sixpence, for Amy could never keep money long; so Cradock accepted the sweet little purse, only he must have a bit of her hair in it. She pulled out her little sewing–case, which she always took to the day–school, and the small bright scissors flashed in the moonlight, and they made a great fuss over them. Two great snips were heard, I know; for exchange, after all, is no robbery. Then hand in hand they went together to see poor Claytonʼs grave, and Cradock started as they approached, for something black was moving there. “Little dear”, said Amy, as the doggie looked mournfully up at them, “she would starve if it were not for me. And I could not coax her to eat a morsel until I said, ‘Clayton, poor Clayton!’ And then she licked my hand and whined, and took a bit to please me. She has had a very nice tea to–night; I told you I broke the saucer, but that was all my own clumsiness”. “And what has she got there? Oh God! I canʼt stand it; it is too melancholy”.