“No, no,” said Maxley, going down to his whisper, and looking, monstrous wise: “Doctor didn't go out of his business for me: you did.” The sage miser's gratitude had not time to die a natural death before circumstances occurred to test it. On the morning of that eventful day which concluded my last chapter, he received a letter from Canada. His wife was out with eggs; so he caught little Rose Sutton, that had more than once spelled an epistle for him; and she read it out in a loud and reckless whine: “'At -- noon -- this -- very -- daie -- Muster --Hardie's a-g-e-n-t, aguent -- d-i-s dis, h-o-n -- honour_ed_ --dis-honour_ed_--a--bill; and sayed.'” Here she made a full stop. Then on to the next verse. “'There -- were no -- more -- asses.'” “Mercy on us! but it can't be asses, wench: drive your spe-ad into't again.” “'A-s-s-e-t-s. Assets.'” “Ah! Go an! go an!” “'Now -- Fatther -- if -- you -- leave -- a s-h-i-l-l-i-n-g, shilling --at --Hardie's -- after -- this -- b-l-a-m-e, ble-am -- your -- self --not-- me -- for -- this -- is -- the -- waie -- the r-o-g-u-e-s, rogews -- all-- bre-ak -- they -- go -- at -- a-- d-i-s-t-a-n-c-e, distance --first-- and -- then -- at -- h-o-m-e, whuoame. -- Dear -- fatther' --Lawk o' daisy, what ails you, Daddy Maxley? You be as white as a Sunday smock. Be you poisoned again, if _you_ please?” “Worse than that--worse!” groaned Maxhey, trembling all over. “Hush!--hold your tongue! Give me that letter! Don't you never tell nobody nothing of what you have been a reading to me, and I'll--I'll--It's only Jem's fun: he is allus running his rigs--that's a good wench now, and I'll give ye a halfpenny.” “La, Daddy,” said the child, opening her eyes, “I never heeds what I _re-ads:_ I be wrapped up in the spelling. Dear heart, what a sight of long words folks puts in a letter, more than ever drops out of their mouths; which their fingers be longer than their tongues, I do suppose.” Maxley hailed thus information characteristically. “Then we'll say no more about the halfpenny.” At this, Rose raised a lamentable cry, and pearly tears gushed forth. “There, there!” said Maxley, deprecatingly; “here's two apples for ye; ye can't get them for less: and a halfpenny or a haporth is all one to you, but it is a great odds to me. And apples they rot; halfpence don't.” It was now nine o'clock. The bank did not open till ten; but Maxley went and hung about the door, to be the first applicant. As he stood there trembling with fear lest the bank should not open at all, he thought hard, and the result was a double resolution: he would have his money out to the last shilling; and, this done, would button up his pockets and padlock his tongue. It was not his business to take care of his neighbours; nor to blow the Hardies, if they paid him his money on demand. “So not a word to my missus, nor yet to the town-crier,” said he.