"I think you'd better ask your father about it. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll keep that print in the window along with the others, but if anyone wants to buy it, I'll say it's bespoken. I'll keep it there a month, and by that time you'll know if there's any chance of your buying it." "Oh, thank you, ma'am. You will let it stay in the window where I can see it?" "Yes, I will." "Oh, thank you, thank you," said Molly with great earnestness. Molly's smile was like sunshine at that moment. Mrs. Mugford put a few mixed sweets into a screw of paper, and slipped the little packet into the child's hand, bidding her run along home, and was rewarded with a look full of deep gratitude. That evening, when her father returned from his day's work at the Hall, Molly told him about what had taken place between her and Mrs. Mugford. He listened in silence. He would have much liked to give his little daughter the money for the picture, more especially as she rarely expressed a desire for anything she did not possess; and his conscience told him that if he would only deny himself a few drinks at the "White Hart," he could easily spare the eighteen pence; but at the same time, he was too selfish to make a sacrifice for even his dearly loved child. "Why couldn't Mrs. Mugford give her the picture?" he said to his wife, later on, after the children had gone to bed. "Why should she, James?" Mrs. Lethbridge replied, indignantly. "She's always giving Molly sweets, and sending across things to me. You know how good and kind she is. I expect," getting angry at her husband's ingratitude, "that she thinks you might give Molly this picture if you liked; no doubt she knows well enough how you spend your evenings, and what you throw away on drink!" "That will do, Jenny! I'm not going to be talked to by you. If you're going to begin nagging, I'll go! Do you think I care what Mrs. Mugford thinks about me?" "No, you don't care—" Alas! It was the beginning of a domestic storm. In a few minutes, husband and wife were exchanging angry, bitter words, and ere long, James Lethbridge strode out of the cottage and betook himself to the "White Hart," there to remain till he should be told to go, at eleven o'clock. Of course, the children heard the high words, but they were quite accustomed to hear their parents wrangling, and took little notice. The boys were sleepy, and after listening to their father slam the door, and walk away, they shut their eyes, and were soon blissfully unconscious of everything; whilst Molly lay in her little bed, repeating in a whisper her favourite evening prayer: "Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me, Bless thy little lamb to-night. Through the darkness be Thou near me, Bless my sleep till morning light."