"Oh, well,—of course there's the interest," father said carelessly. "A man couldn't be expected to put himself to inconvenience for nothing at all." "How much is the interest?" asked grannie. "Well, he did speak of fifteen or twenty per cent for small sums, but that was before we got so friendly together. I don't doubt but he'll make it lower now. You needn't fidget, grannie. It's a mere song, just a few pounds and odd shillings." Grannie waited a minute or two, thinking to herself, and then she said in a slow sort of way— "Miles, Mr. Simmons is a bad man." "Now mother!" said he. "Mr. Simmons is a bad man," repeated grannie, "and you may take my word for it." "That's charity, isn't it?" said father. "A man you've never seen in your life before, and one as is just doing me a good turn." "I don't want to be uncharitable," grannie said. "But I know a bad man when I see him, and he's one. And he'll get you into trouble, as sure as you have to do with him." "I'm not a boy to be lectured, mother," says he very short. "I hope I'm of an age to choose my own friends, and not be meddled with. I can tell you Simmons is a clever fellow and no mistake. Dear me, I don't know what there is he don't know." "That may be," grannie said. "But cleverness isn't goodness. I wish it was. The world would be a better world than it is." And then she dropped the subject, and said no more. That was always her way. She spoke out where she counted it right, but she didn't go on bothering where her words had no power. Mother was so pleased to have her five-pound note, that she seemed to care very little for what was being said. She went off that same afternoon, and got some new roses for her bonnet, and a smart ribbon, and a big brooch. Father laughed when he saw them, and said he had meant the money for the butcher and baker and milkman, for we had been having things on credit since he left off work; but he went on to add that it didn't matter, for there was plenty more. And next day he brought another five-pound note, and gave it to grannie, and told mother to do what she liked with the other. Every penny of it went in dress. Grannie said to herself, "It's a sort of madness;" but I do not think she meant me to hear. Another three or four months went by, and still the money did not come. More five-pound notes followed the first, and money had to be borrowed fur the rent of the new house, as well as for our every-day expenses. Mother said one day that she could not see why we should not go into it straight off, and get rid of the old cottage. What was the good of waiting? she asked. It would not cost us much more to live in the house than in the cottage. Perhaps there was some truth in this as we were now living; for father was getting to be very particular about having the best of everything at table; and he and mother seemed quite careless how many bills they ran up.