"Do you believe what I say? When I lie down at night I am so happy that I cannot sleep; I can hardly say my prayers sometimes, I want to sing them instead. Think of Emmie and I having our wish, and living in our own cottage! Will you come and see us there, dear, you and Molly?" "No, Miss Queenie; I hope not. Listen to me, my dearie. There, my pipe is out, but never mind; somehow I can't smoke it to-night. Supposing you were rich, very rich, Miss Queenie, how about the cottage then?" "Suppose that you were talking nonsense," she returned, laughing. "Do you know, I have learnt to make bread, and to cook, and to mend, and to iron, and to do all sorts of useful things. I mean my cottage to be the cleanest and the prettiest in Hepshaw. There is quite a large garden, only it was grown over with rank grass; but Captain Fawcett and Mr. Clayton have had it dug up. We mean to plant beans and peas, and all kinds of vegetables; but I shall have roses and mignonette under the windows." "My dear, you must listen to me; never mind about the cottage just now. What did I say to you, dearie, about the mysterious dealings of Providence? Things happen sometimes that we never expected. What were you saying, my dearie, about being the richest woman in Carlisle?" The old man's manner was so singular that the girl gazed at him in astonishment. "Supposing something strange had happened, Miss Queenie," he continued nervously, "and you were to wake up one morning--this morning, say--and find yourself a rich lady, what should you say to that, my dearie?" "I--I should be sorry, I think. Oh, Caleb! what do you mean?" she implored, roused at last by his agitation. "No, no; don't say that, Miss Queenie, dear; it is tempting the good Providence that has turned his hard heart, and made him restore to you and that precious lamb fourfold of what was due to you. 'I was sick and ye visited me.' There it is, my dearie; and the blessing has come back to you again when you least expected it." "Caleb, I cannot bear this," exclaimed the girl, turning suddenly very pale. "Do you see how you are trying me? Is there something I ought to know, and that you are trying to prepare me to hear, something about Mr. Calcott and Emmie?" "Nay, nay; not about Emmie." "About myself, then?" "Ay," patting her hand tremulously, "about yourself, Miss Queenie, dear. You have woke up this morning a rich woman. Mr. Calcott has left you all his money." "Oh, Caleb! no,"--Queenie's voice rose almost to a cry--"not to me, surely, surely! You must mean Emmie! Emmie is his niece, not I; I am nothing to him." "Ah! but you ministered to him like a daughter; you were not turned from him by his hard words."