"It's business, child," he said, "and business is all ups and downs; I have had the ups, and the downs I must have." Spite this philosophic reflection, Mr. Jones could not help thinking he had rather more than his share of the downs. He was embittered, too, by daily perceiving the defection of some staunch customer. That lady in the large, shabby, black straw bonnet, who had so spiritedly told "The two Teapots" to flare away on the day of its opening, was one of the first who forsook the "Teapot" for its rival. Many followed her perfidious example; but Mr. Jones did not feel fairly cut up, until he one evening distinctly saw Rachel Gray walk out of the opposite shop. The stab of Brutus was nothing to Caesar in comparison with this blow to Richard Jones. And he was thinking it over the next morning, and stood behind his counter breaking sugar rather gloomily, when Rachel herself appeared. Mr. Jones received her very coldly. She asked for a pound of sugar. "And no tea?" he said, pointedly. "None to-day," quietly replied Rachel; but she saw that he knew all, and she was too sincere to feign ignorance. "Mr. Jones," she said, somewhat sadly, "I must go where I am told, and do as I am bid; but, indeed, why do you not keep better tea?" "Better tea! better tea!" echoed Mr. Jones, in some indignation. "Yes," quietly said Rachel, "better tea." Mr. Jones smiled an injured smile, and rather sarcastically replied: "Miss Gray, if you prefer that feller's tea to mine, you're welcome to leave your money to him, and not to me. 'Tain't because my daughter is prenticed to you that I expect nothink from you, Miss. All I say is this: don't go there at night, Miss Gray, and buy your tea, and then come here in the morning and buy your sugar. That's not giving a man your custom, you know it ain't. Don't do it; no offence meant, but I'm like you, Miss Gray, plain spoken, you see." And he resumed the breaking of his sugar. "I prefer!" sadly said Rachel, "when you know, Mr. Jones, that I am no one now, but must go by the will of another--indeed, you wrong me!" Jones knew he did; but misfortune makes men wilfully unjust. "Don't mention it," he interrupted, "ladies like new faces, and he's a young fellow, and I am an old one, and so there's an end of it." Poor Rachel looked much pained. To be blamed by every one seemed her lot. "Indeed, Mr. Jones," she said, "I must do as Mrs. Brown bids me, and she says your four shilling black is not equal to his four, and, indeed, Mr. Jones, I am sorry to say, that others say so too." Mr. Jones did not reply one word; he fell into a brown study; at the close of it he sighed, and looking up, said earnestly: "Miss Gray, let me have some of that tea, will you? and I'll see myself what it's like." "Of course you will," said Rachel, brightening, "you shall have it directly--directly, Mr. Jones."