"Mrs. Dundyke's son. We are to be married sometime." Mildred had the honour of an introduction to the gentleman before she left--for Mr. David came in--a young man above the middle height, somewhat free and confident in his address and manners. He was not bad-looking, and he was attired sufficiently well; for the house he was in, in Fenchurch-street, was one of the first houses of its class, and would not have tolerated shabbiness in any of its clerks. The shirt-sleeve episodes, the blacking-boot and carrying-up coal attire, so vivid in the remembrance of Charlotte Travice, were kept for home, for late at night and early morning. Of this, Mildred saw nothing, heard nothing. "He has eighty pounds a year now," whispered Betsey to Mildred; "his next rise will be a hundred and fifty. And then, when it has got to that----," the blush on the cheeks, the downcast eyes, told the rest. "Them there shrimps ain't bad; take some more of 'em." Mildred positively started--not at the invitation so abruptly given to her, but at the wording of it. It was the first sentence she had heard him speak. Had he framed it in joke? No; it was his habitual manner of speaking. She cast her compassionate eyes on Betsey Travice, just as Charlotte would have cast her indignant ones. But Betsey was used to him, and did not _feel_ the degradation. "Now, mother, don't you worry your inside out after that girl," he said, as Mrs. Dundyke, for the fiftieth time, plunged into the kitchen, groaning over the shortcomings of the servant. "You won't live no longer for it. Betsey, just put them two squalling chickens down, and pour me out a drop more tea; make yourself useful if you can till mother comes back. Won't you take no more, Miss Arkell?" "Betsey," asked Mildred, in a low tone, as they were alone for a few minutes when Mildred was about to leave, "do you _like_ Mr. David Dundyke?" Betsey's face was sufficient answer. "I think you ought not to be too precipitate to say you will do this or do the other. You are young, Mr. Dundyke is young, and--and--if you had had more experience in the world, you might not have engaged yourself to _him_." "Thank you kindly; that is just as Charlotte says. But we are not going to marry yet." "Betsey--you will excuse me for saying it: if I speak, it is for your own sake--do you consider Mr. Dundyke, with his--his apparently imperfect education, is suitable for you?" "Indeed," answered Betsey, "his education is better than it appears. He has fallen into this odd way of speaking from habit, from association with his mother. _She_ speaks so, you must perceive. He rather prides himself upon keeping it up, upon not being what he calls fine. And he is so clever in his business!" Mildred could not at all understand that sort of "pride." Betsey Travice noticed the gravity of her eye.