But it was long before she could coax me to speak of my early life. There was much that I felt I should be ashamed for Jessie to know; and a burning blush came to my cheeks as I thought of the time when my mother used to beg for our living. To escape too searching an inquiry I began to tell her of my grandmother, which led naturally to the story of my grandmother's wedding. Of course the man with the knob on the top of his head, and who was always eating his nails, was introduced, he being the principal figure at the wedding. 'There!' cried Jessie. You said you hadn't any story to tell. Why, you've told me half a dozen already. I can see your grandmother as plain as plain can be; and that disagreeable man, too--I wonder what became of him, after all? What was his name, Chris?' 'Anthony Bullpit' 'I hate the name of Anthony. Go on; I want to hear more.' I gave a description of Jane Painter, at which Jessie laughed heartily, and clapped her hands. 'I shall come into your bedroom one night with a sheet over me, and frighten you.' 'I shouldn't be frightened of you, Jessie; besides, I'm not a boy now, and I'm not afraid of anything. Then your voice----' 'Well!' 'Your voice is musical. How could you frighten anybody with it?' Jessie edged a little closer to me. 'Go on, Chris. Anything more about Jane Painter? What a wretch she must have been!' Then came an account of my grandmother's death, and the legend of the long stocking, in which Jessie was immensely interested. 'And you never found any money after all, Chris?' 'No; and I'm sure we searched for it everywhere. We looked up the chimney, and ripped the bed open, and pulled the armchair all to pieces.' 'I'd have had the cellar dug up,' cried Jessie excitedly; I'd have had the paper taken off the walls, and the flooring taken away bit by bit. I am certain the money was hidden somewhere.' I shook my head. 'Or Jane Painter stole it,' she continued. 'I sha'n't sleep to-night for thinking of it. I do so like to find out things! And I'd like to find out this thing more than any other.' 'Why, Jessie?' 'Such a lot of money, Chris! Hundreds and hundreds of pounds there must have been hidden away, or stolen. Hundreds and hundreds of pounds!' 'Would you like to be rich, Jessie?' 'Chris,' she replied, looking at me seriously, 'I think I would do anything in the world for money.' A miserable feeling came over me, and for the first time in my life I repined at my lot. What would I not have sacrificed at that moment if I could have filled her lap with money! All this time Jessie had been playing with the stone monkey figure, and now she suddenly uttered an exclamation of surprise. 'Look!' she cried. 'The head comes off. It isn't broken; here's the wire it hangs upon. Why, Chris----' She seized my hand in uncontrollable excitement, and hid the figure in her lap. 'What's the matter, Jessie?'