"Going, Sir?" faintly said Jones. "Why yes!" replied the young man, "I have found a situation, and so I am off naturally. My week is up to-morrow, I believe, but not having given notice, I shall pay for next, of course." He thrust his hand in his pocket as he spoke. Poor Mr. Jones was too much hurt with his disappointment to care about the four shillings. "Pray don't mention it," he said hurriedly, "your time's up to-morrow, and so there's an end of it all." Which words applied to the end of his hopes, more than anything else. Mr. Saunders gave him a look of slight surprise, but said quietly: "No, no, Mr. Jones, what's fair is fair. I gave no notice, and so here are your four shillings." He laid them on the table as he spoke; and resumed his packing. He forgot to ask what had brought Mr. Jones up to his room, and Mr. Jones no longer anxious to tell him, pocketed his four shillings and withdrew hastily, under pretence that he was wanted in the shop. Mr. Jones had not acted in all this without consulting his daughter; she had tacitly approved his plans, and when he had imprudently allowed her to see how he thought those plans likely to end by a matrimonial alliance between herself and young Saunders, a faint blush had come over the poor little thing's sallow face, and stooping to shun her father's kind eye, she pretended to pick up a needle that had not fallen. And now she was waiting, below, for it was early yet, and she had not gone to Miss Gray's --she was waiting to know the result of her father's conference with Mr. Saunders. No wonder that he came down somewhat slowly, and not a little crest-fallen. All he said was: "He's got a new situation," and whistling by way of showing his utter unconcern, he entered the shop, where a dirty child with its chin resting on the counter, was waiting to be served. Mary too had had her dreams, innocent dreams, made up of the shadow of love, and of the substance of girlish vanity. The poor child felt this blow, the first her little life had known, and childishly began to cry. Her eyes were red when she went to work, but she sat in shadow, and Jane, who seldom honoured Miss Jones with her notice, saw nothing. Rachel Gray was too much absorbed in her own thoughts to heed what passed around her. It was only on her return, that finding Mary in tears, she drew from her the little tale of her hope and disappointment. It is not an easy task to console, even the lightest sorrow, for it is not easy to feel sympathy. Yet little as her grave mind, and earnest heart could understand the troubles of Mary Jones, little as she could feel in reality for the childish fancy to which they owed their birth, Rachel felt for the young girl's grief, such as it was, and by sympathy and mild reasoning, she soothed Mary, and sent her home partly consoled. Of course, Mr. Saunders was gone--he had left too without any adieu or message. Mary's vanity was as much hurt as her heart.