“That young man in the room below. I haven’t told you of it before, grandmother, but he is always in my way. I cannot go up or down stairs that he does not say things to me which seem insulting, situated as we are.” “My poor child! poor, dear, little Anna!” said the old lady, going up to the excited girl and smoothing the rich waves of her hair as if she had been a child. “Perhaps the young man means no harm. What sort of a person is he?” “A dandy; a pitiful——” Here Anna’s anger flowed out, and she burst into tears. “There, there! Don’t cry so, child! What did the young man say to you?” “Say—say? I don’t remember, grandma. Nothing, I think; only he held my hand so close, and _he_ saw it——Oh! it is too bad—it is too bad!” “Be tranquil, Anna. I cannot think what has come over you. Why, your eyes are full of smothered shame; your lips tremble, you are giving way altogether. Sit down quietly, and tell me what it is all about.” “I will, grandmother. I know it is a shame to take on so, but that man is enough to drive one mad. What is he doing in this house? Robert says that he is a gentleman, and a great friend of young Mr. Gould’s. He can have no honest business here.” The old lady sat down in her rocking-chair, and sat thoughtfully gazing in Anna’s face. She was a timid woman, and poverty had fastened its depressing influence on all her faculties. But there was moral force asleep in her nature yet; the color came and went in her old cheek; her soft, brown eyes grew resolute in their expression. “There is no one to protect us—no one to say a word in our behalf,” said Anna, with a fresh outburst of tears. “Robert is too young. Oh! what can we do—what can we do?” The old lady arose from her chair, and going up to a tiny looking-glass which hung on the wall, smoothed the gray hair under her cap with two little withered hands that shook like aspen-leaves. Then, with a look of gentle resolution on her face, she softly opened the door and went down stairs. Young Ward was lying upon his bed with a segar in his mouth. He lay prone on his back, and sent up clouds of smoke with a vehemence which seemed to have filled his moustache and hair with smouldering fire. He turned lazily as the old lady knocked, and emitting a fresh volume of smoke, called out, “Come in! Why the deuce don’t you come in?” Mrs. Burns came gently through the door, and stood a pace inside the threshold gazing at him. Ward started up, flung his feet over the side of the bed, and looked his astonishment at this intrusion. “How do you do, ma’am? Glad to see you. Take a seat. This seems neighborly. Excuse my dressing-gown; free-and-easy in my room here. Did not expect the honor of a lady’s company, but glad to have it. Sit down.” Mrs. Burns took a chair near the bed, and, folding both hands in her lap, turned her eyes full upon the flushed face turned upon her. “Mr. Ward—I believe that is your name?”