"Miss Queenie, dear," confessed the old man, with tears in his eyes, "if I had the money I would not begrudge you satin and diamonds; nothing would be too good for you, my pretty; nothing that old Caleb would not get you; but it is not me, bless your dear heart, that you have to thank for all your things." Queenie's face fell, her arms dropped to her side. "Not you, Caleb?" "Why no," he returned, slightly embarrassed; "I would have bought them and gladly if I had had the money, which I am free to confess is not the case. You have another and a richer friend at court than old Caleb." "Do you mean to tell me," replied Queenie, sitting down, quite pale with the surprise, "that--that--" "Ah, I knew you would guess it!" interrupted Caleb, sagaciously. "'Find out what she requires for her visit, and get it, Runciman,' he said to me; and, as I observed once before on a similar occasion, you might have knocked me over with a feather. 'Ask some woman to help you, for we neither of us know much of a girl's farthingales and furbelows, I fancy,' he said, grimly enough; and so, my dear, I made bold, and invented that pleasing little fiction in order to get at some of your ideas." "Mr. Calcott has given me all those things?" she repeated; and then for the moment she could say no more. CHAPTER X. "THE LITTLE COMFORTER." "Thy love Shall chant itself its own beatitudes, After its own life wailing. A child kiss, Set on thy sighing lips, shall make thee glad; A poor man, served by thee, shall make thee rich; A rich man, helped by thee, shall make thee strong. Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense Of service which thou renderest."--_E. B. Browning._ On her next visit, which was to be her last before they started for Hepshaw, Mr. Calcott received Queenie with more than his usual acrimony. "In my time punctuality used to be considered a virtue," he said, severely, with an ominous glance at the time-piece, which showed Queenie she was some minutes late. "Never mind; I dare say this is the last time you will have to amuse a troublesome old man." Queenie's eyes filled with tears. "Please don't talk so, Mr. Calcott; not to-night, at least, when I have to bid you good-bye for so many weeks." "Aye, you will be very sorry for that, no doubt," ironically. "Yes," she returned, with the sweet candor natural to her; "far more sorry than I would have expected or believed." He laughed a low, bitter laugh, that went to the girl's heart. "And you think I shall credit that?" "Why not? one must always believe the truth," she returned, simply. "When I first came here I pitied you dreadfully, and yet I was half afraid of you. I do not fear you at all now." "Indeed!" "Your moroseness used to terrify, but now I do not seem to mind all your hard words; they lurk under kind actions, and so they have lost their sting. It was kindness that prompted you to send me all those pretty things."