"I'm not dissatisfied exactly; don't tell any one that, or they'll think I'm ungrateful for all the kindness that has been shown me, and all the confidence that has been placed in me. You, Mr. Hinchford, must not think I'm ungrateful or discontented." "Perhaps you're ambitious, Mattie," he said, jestingly, "now you've mastered all the lessons which I used to set you, and can read and write as well as most of us." "I don't exactly understand the true meaning of ambition," said Mattie. "I'm no scholar, you know. Is it a wish to get on in the world?" "Partly." "I'm not ambitious. I wouldn't be a lady for the world. I would rather be of service to someone I love, than see those I love working and toiling for my sake. But then they must love me, and have faith in me, or I'm--I'm done for!" Mattie had dropped, as was her habit when excited, into one of her old phrases; but its meaning was apparent, and Sidney Hinchford understood it. "Something's on your mind, Mattie. Can I punch anybody's head for you?" "No, thank you. But you can remember the promise about the housekeeper when you're a rich man." Like Sidney's father, she accepted Sidney's coming greatness as a thing of course, concerning which no doubts need be entertained. He laughed. "It's a promise, mind. Good night, Mattie." "Good night." That night was to be marked by another variation of the day's monotony--by more than one. It was striking seven from St. George's Church, Southwark, when a stately carriage and pair dashed up Great Suffolk Street, and drew up at the stationer's door. A few moments afterwards a tall, white-haired old gentleman entered the shop leaning upon the arm of a good-looking young man, and advanced towards the counter. The likeness of the elder man was so apparent to that of old Mr. Hinchford up-stairs, that Mattie fancied it was he for an instant, until her rapid observation detected that the gentleman before her was much thinner, wore higher shirt collars, had a voluminous frill to his shirt, and a double gold eye-glass in his hand. "Thank you, that will do. I won't trouble you any further." "Shall I wait here?" "No, my boy--don't let me keep you from your club engagements. If you are behind time take the carriage." "No, no--not so selfish as that, sir. Good night." "Good night." The good-looking young man did not wait to see the result of his father's mission; he glanced for a moment at Mattie, and then took his departure, leaving the stately old gentleman confronting her at the counter. "This is Mr. Wesden's, stationer, I believe?" he asked, surveying Mattie through his glasses. "Yes, sir." "A Mr. Hinchford lives here?" "Yes, sir." "Is he within?" "Not the old gentleman, I believe, sir." "As I have not come hither to base my hopes of an interview on the belief of a black-eyed shop-girl, will you be kind enough to inquire?"