"I've had a sample, and I don't mind it much. To tell you the truth," he added grimly, "it amuses me." Mrs. Chester looked doubtful; Sally's fainting dead away had not been an amusement to her, and she was fearful that Seth was disposed to make light of her child's misfortune; but the quaint smile which came to Seth's lips after his remark had so much of kindness in it that she was reassured. "I can trust you, I think, Mr. Dumbrick." "If I wasn't sure you could, I wouldn't have come to you," was his reply, and then he paused for a moment or two. "Mrs. Chester, I can spare you two shillings if you're in need of it." This was sufficient evidence, and Mrs. Chester gratefully pressed his hand. Seth placed two shillings on the table, and walked off quickly. That night everything was settled; Dr. Lyon advised Mrs. Chester not to delay, and she agreed to go to her situation on the following day. He spoke well of Seth Dumbrick also. "He has a rough outside," said the sensible doctor, "but it covers a kernel of goodness, if I don't mistake. The strawberry, you know, Mrs. Chester, grows underneath the nettle." "Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Chester, seeing but vaguely the application. Mrs. Chester had no heart to bid farewell to her neighbours. She left Rosemary Lane almost by stealth, going first to Seth Dumbrick with the two children. "You'd like to see my place, perhaps," said Seth, and led the way to his cellar. Mrs. Chester was dismayed somewhat by the gloomy look of the apartment. "It is very dark, Mr. Dumbrick." "Not when one's accustomed to it," was the reply; "besides there's a bit o' light behind the cloud." He went to the back, and opened a door which disclosed a flight of steps, leading up to a yard in the rear of the house. The sun happened to be shining brightly, and the light struggling in gave the cellar a more habitable appearance. "I've sometimes thought of having a window let in," said Seth; "perhaps I'll do it after a bit. And there's nothing to be said against it at night." In fact there _was_ an undiscovered window in the back wall, hidden by shutters. Seth seemed to wish not to make the bargain an attractive one in Mrs. Chester's eyes. She knelt before Sally, and kissed her and cried over her. "You're sorry I'm going to leave you, my pet--say you're sorry." Sally required no prompting. She loved her mother, but her practical little wits had gauged the situation, and she had done the best she could in the circumstances. Seth, with delicate forethought, left the mother and the children alone, and mounted to his stall, where he continued his work of soling and heeling and patching. Presently, Mrs. Chester stood by his side. He walked with her down the street. "Don't take on," he said; "I'll look after Sally, and you can always write to me here, if you've anything to say. I'm settled in Rosemary Lane for life. Goodbye; I wish you better days."