"Well, I don't know about that, my girl, because it wouldn't be nice to look at, and he never liked unpleasant things; but he's a bit put out about our Jess." "What?" said Mrs Shingle, turning very red. "About our Jess," said Dick, hammering away very viciously at an inoffensive-looking bit of leather. "He's got to know about those boys being so fond of coming here." "Our Jessie's as good as his boys," said Mrs Shingle sharply, and ready to stand her ground, now that the truth was out. "So she is, my gal--so she is, every bit; but she's only copper, and they're silver-gilt in his eyes, if they ain't gold.--Here, you sir, you're listening again, instead of working," he shouted to the boy, who began to gum his hands liberally with wax and roll the threads on his lath-like knees.--"But Max has been on to me about it, and he says he won't have it; and I always told them so, 'specially Tom. `Tom,' I says, `your governor won't like your coming here,' I says; `and he'll think all sorts of things about it.'" "Just as if money need make any difference!" exclaimed Mrs Shingle. "It needn't, my gal," said Dick, grunting over his work; "but it do--it makes all the difference; you see if it don't. For if you don't go off with that bit of shoe-binding of yours, and bring back the money, we sha'n't get any dinner, and that's very different to having it. But where's Jessie?" "Gone to the warehouse." "What, all-alone! Now, look here, mother--I won't have it. She's too young and pretty to go there all alone, and I won't have her left to be followed and annoyed by counter-jumpers, and that fellow as gives out the work. You know she came home crying on Friday. Why didn't you go with her?" "I had this to finish, Dick." "You've always got _this_ to finish," said Dick testily. "Then you should have kept her till I came back." "But it would have been too late, Dick. Where are you going?" she cried, as he rose and began to untie his apron. "To meet her," he exclaimed angrily. "But she hasn't gone alone, Dick," said the wife softly. "If you've let her go there with that Fred Fraser, Polly, I'll never forgive you," cried Dick. "She's gone with Tom, dear." "Tom, dear, indeed! It isn't `Tom, dear,' and it isn't going to be `Tom, dear,'" exclaimed Dick, re-tying his apron viciously. "But he came, dear, just as she was starting, and he begged so hard that I was obliged to let him take her."