Mrs. Dibble did not mention the subject again, and they lived all the more happily together after this assertion of his position by Dibble. But the builder’s daughter, with her peculiar intermittent lisp, did not fail, whenever an opportunity arose, to proclaim her birth, parentage, and education to the inhabitants of the district. In course of time, by dint of household economy, Mrs. Dibble bought an old square piano at Avonworth, and she would sit as she did in the old times of Still Street on Sunday evenings, and thump out the “Old Hundredth” until her hooks-and-eyes came undone, and Dibble had a fine prospect of back and back hair which reminded him of those prosperous days when he was porter at the famous offices of the Meter Iron Works Company. This, however, excited feelings of regret in poor Dibble’s mind that he was dependent upon the bounty of Lady Verner now, instead of earning his own living; so he made application to the agent for “something to do;” and, pleased with Dibble’s desire to make some practical return for the kindness he received, Lady Verner recommended him to Mr. Arthur Phillips, who gave him another cottage near Barton, and had him instructed in the mystery of grinding colours. Dibble soon made himself useful, and found enough to do at Barton Hall (where he had once been in the employ of Christopher Tallant, Esq.) all day long. This made his evenings happier; the music of the old piano no longer twitted him with his dependency. Mrs. Dibble, as had been her wont in the happy times, mixed every night for him a glass of gin toddy, and whilst they sat together by the fire on the conclusion of the “Old Hundredth,” she acknowledged that after all Thomas Dibble was worthy to be the husband of a woman who had had a boarding-school education, with music and extras. CHAPTER XX. CLOSING SCENES. The bells of Brazencrook and Avonworth which rung out so merrily at Amy’s marriage, and tolled so solemnly at the burial of Richard Tallant, have rung out joyously in celebration of the birth of an heir to the noble house of Verner, and with that event we approach the concluding scenes of this drama of love and money, of Fortune and Finance. You will not sit patiently wondering what the end is to be, like you sat when that new drama was produced at the London theatre, where all the mystery and grandeur of the play was concentrated in the last act. Already you have guessed how things will end; for we have not striven to be mysterious, neither have we desired to trifle with your feelings.