"Made him go down upon his knees and beg my pardon, and then he brought me away." "God bless him!" said Dick fervently, "But it's Mr Thomas Fraser, my dear; and he's nothing to you but a brave, true young fellow, who acted like a man. But, that it should come to this!" he groaned, striding up and down the room. "This is being a poor man, and having to eat other people's bread. Oh, it's dreadful, dreadful! If she'd been rich Max's daughter, mother, no one would have dared to insult her; and as for this blackguard, I'll--" He caught up the hammer, and had reached the door, when Jessie and her mother ran and clung to him, Mrs Shingle locking the door till he promised to be content with the castigation the fellow had received. "Mr Tom would be sure to beat him well, father," said Mrs Shingle. "Well, that is one comfort," said Dick, cooling a little. "I should have nearly killed any blackguard who had touched you. Well, mother," he continued, "when things comes to the worst they mends; but it don't seem to be so with us any more than with shoes, unless some one mends 'em, I mean to mend ours somehow. `Why don't you try?' every one says. Well, I do try." Just then the boy came back, and making a sign to Jessie and his wife not to let him see their trouble, all tried to resume their work, but in a despairing, half-hearted manner, in the midst of which, in a doleful, choking voice, Dick began to sing over his sewing, while the boy seemed to keep time with the hammer with which he was driving in nails. "For we always are so jolly, oh-- So jolly, oh--so jolly, oh--so jolly--" sang Dick; but he had soon done, and his voice trailed off into a dismal wail, as, unable to contain themselves, Jessie's face went down over her sewing machine and Mrs Shingle hid hers in her apron. "My God! what can I do?" the poor fellow moaned, as, with a catching in his breath, he glanced at those most dear to him. "I hav'n't a shilling in the world, and the more I try--the more I try--" He caught up a hammer savagely, and began to beat vigorously at the leather, forcing himself to sing again, as if he had not seen the trouble of his wife and child-- "To get his fill, the poor boy did stoop, And, awful to state, he was biled in the soup." "Oh, master, please, master, don't sing that dreadful song," cried Union Jack, with a dismal howl. "I can't bear it: please, master, I can't bear it, indeed." "Hold your tongue, you young ruffian," cried Dick, with a pitiful attempt at being comic. "It's a good job we've got you in stock; for if things do come to the worst, you'll make a meal for many a day to come." "Oh, please, don't talk like that, master," cried the boy. "Dick, dear," whispered his wife, "don't tease the poor lad: he half believes you."