"I knew you were sharp and quick," said Becky. "You are a little cousin of mine, if Mrs. Preedy asks you, and you have no mother or father. Give me those matches. I throw them into the fire, one after another. What a blaze they make! Your mother died last week, and you, knowing I was in service here, came to ask me to help you. You never sold matches, Fanny." "Never! I'll take my oath of it!" "That is all I shall say to-night, Fanny. I am tired, and I want to think. Go into that room--it is my bedroom; here is a light. You will see a nest of drawers in the room; open the top one, and take out a clean nightdress; it will be too long and too large for you, but that doesn't matter, does it? Give yourself a good wash, then pop into bed, and go to sleep. To-morrow morning, before you are up, I shall buy you some clothes. Poor little Fanny! Poor little Fanny!" The child had fallen on her knees, and had bowed her face on Becky's lap. Her body was shaken with sobs. "Now then, go, or Mrs. Preedy may come back before you are a-bed." Fanny jumped to her feet, and kissing Becky's hands, took the candle, and went into Becky's bedroom. Becky's attention, diverted for a while by this adventure, returned to the subject which now almost solely occupied her mind. She had not yet looked at the copies of the last _Evening Moon_ she had bought of the newsboy in the Square an hour ago. She opened one of the papers, and saw, in large type, the heading, "FREDERICK HOLDFAST," and beneath it the following letter, addressed to the editor of the _Evening Moon_:-- "SIR,--I have read the thrilling Romance in Real Life which your Special Reporter, in a style which does not speak highly for his culture or good taste, has so temptingly dished up for your numerous readers. It not only _reads_ like a romance, but, with reference to one of the characters it introduces to a too curious public, it _is_ a romance. The character I refer to is Frederick Holdfast, the son of the ill-fated gentleman who was murdered in Great Porter Square. That he is dead there appears to be no reason to doubt; and, therefore, all the more reason why I, who knew him well and was his friend, should step forward without hesitation to protest against the charges brought against him in your columns. I declare most earnestly that they are false.