"Friend!" cried Mrs Hallam, with her face full of animation, "he has been to me a brother. When I was in utter distress at that terrible time, he extricated my poor husband's money affairs from the miserable tangle in which they were left, and by a wise management of the little remainder so invested it that there was a sufficiency for Julia and me to live on in this simple manner." "He did all this for you," said Sir Gordon dryly. "Yes, and would have placed his purse at my disposal, but that he saw how painful such an offer would have been." "Of course," said Sir Gordon, "most painful." "I often fear that I did wrong in allowing him to leave Castor; but he has done so much good here that I tell myself all was for the best." And so the conversation rippled on, Julia sometimes being drawn in, and now and then Bayle throwing in a word; but on the whole simply looking on, an interested spectator, who was appealed to now and then as if he had been the brother of one, the uncle of the other. At last Sir Gordon rose to go, taking quite a lingering farewell of Julia, at whom he gazed again in the same wistful manner. "Good-bye," he said, smiling tenderly at her, while holding her little hand in his. "I shall come again--soon--yes, soon; but not to bring you a doll." There was a jingle of a tiny bell as they closed the door, and the hard-faced woman had to squeeze by the visitors to get to the door, the passage was so small. Sir Gordon stared hard, and then placed his large square glass to his eye. "To be sure--yes. It's you," he said. "The old maid, Thisbe--" "Some people can't help being old maids," said that lady tartly, "and some wants to be, sir." "I beg your pardon," said Sir Gordon with grave politeness. "You mistake me. I meant the maid who used to be with Doctor and Mrs Luttrell in the old times. To be sure, yes, and with Mrs Hallam afterwards." "Yes, Sir Gordon." "So you've kept to your mistress all through--I mean you have stayed." "Yes, sir, of course I have." "And been one of the truest and best of friends," said Bayle, smiling. Thisbe gave herself a jerk and glanced over her shoulder, as though to see if the way was clear for her escape--should she have to run and avoid this praise. "Ah, yes," said Sir Gordon, looking at her still very thoughtfully. "To be sure," he continued, in quite dreamy tones, "I had almost forgotten. Tom Porter wants to marry you." "Then Tom Porter must--" "Tchut! tchut! tchut! woman; don't talk like that. Make your hay while the sun shines. Good fellow, Tom. Obstinate, but solid, and careful. Come, Bayle." "Ah," he sighed, as they walked slowly down the street. "Gather your rosebuds while you may, Old Time is still a-flying.