There was always an irregularity about the meals in the Day family. The shopkeeper was often kept below for an hour after the time she should have been seated at the board above, and when she was detained in such a way, Deleah would always stay too, to help her mother. But Bessie had ordained that the meal should go on without them. It was not right that a man, at work all day, should be kept waiting for his food at night. And so it often happened that he and she would sit, _tête-à-tête_, over the cold meat and pickles, of which, with the addition of bottled beer for the boarder, the meal consisted. Many intimate items of her own heart history did Bessie confide to the politely attentive ear of Mr. Charles Gibbon. She did not receive confidences in return, or ask for them. What could the young shopman have to relate to compare with the interest attending Bessie's revelations? He was no prince in disguise as it would have been so pleasant to discover him to be--this short, thickly-made, middle-aged man, with the prominent, bright, dark eyes, the large dark head, the knobbly red forehead, whose parents had kept a small draper's shop in a small market-town in the county. What could a man so born and nurtured have to give Bessie in return for the stories of the high life to which she had been accustomed? But he must consider himself flattered by Bessie's condescension, he must see how attractive she looked seated beneath the three-branched bronze gas-burner to preside at his supper. Emily, bringing in the hot sweet pudding to replace the cold meat, would wag a facetiously warning head at the young lady behind the back of the unconscious Mr. Gibbon. "Don't you go leading that nice young chap on to make a fool of hisself over you, Miss Bessie," she would caution the girl, the next day. "He can take care of himself. Make your mind quite easy," Bessie would answer, well pleased. She loved to discuss such topics with her devoted admirer, Emily, and liked to be accused of breaking hearts. "We shall be late for supper again," Mrs. Day, busy with daybook and ledger in the shop, would say to the young daughter beside her. "Never mind, mama. Perhaps it is charity not to hurry," Deleah on one occasion responded. "Oh, nonsense, dear!" said Mrs. Day, looking up with alarm in her tired eyes. "Well, if Mr. Gibbon is in love with Bessie?" "'If,' indeed!" "That will be the end of it. You'll see." "The end indeed, Deleah!" "You think Bessie would not take him?" "Bessie will, at least, wait till he asks her." "But should you object, mama? He is not a gentleman, I suppose; Bessie says he's not. But I think we've got to accept things and people and our place, as we are; not always to be looking back to what used to be. I often wish Bessie would see it like that, mama."