The earnest sincerity of the grateful man shook Mr. Manners to the soul, and for once in his life his self-control slipped from him. He recovered himself quickly, but the impression produced by Mr. Parkinson's words remained. "You speak," he said, "of a woman and her daughter who have laid you under an obligation--" "A moment, if you please," interrupted Mr. Parkinson; "I spoke of a lady and her daughter. Mrs. Manners is a lady; we all know that, every one of us, and we've often wondered how she found her way among us, and how it is she is almost as poor as the poorest of us. I object to your calling her a woman in a tone that means, if it means anything, that she is no better than the rest of us. It's clear enough to me that you look down on us. Well, look down. It doesn't hurt us, any more than it's to your credit." "You are mistaken," said Mr. Manners, gently; "I do not look down on you. I was once a working-man myself." He sighed as he made the admission, at the thought that in those early days when he was struggling and making his way up the ladder he was a happier man than he had ever been since. "Were you?" exclaimed Mr. Parkinson, in wonder. "Let me think a bit. I remember when I was a boy hearing of a Mr. Manners, a great contractor, who was once no better than a bricklayer, and who had made himself a millionaire by his cleverness. It may be that you're the gentleman." "I am he." "I take off my hat to you. I'm not one of the envious ones. You made your money fairly, I've heard, and though you drove hard bargains, you didn't cut down wages." "That is true. I shall be pleased if yon will reckon it to my credit now." "I'll do that--it's no more than fair. And the lady I speak of may be a connection of yours, you say. That's interesting, though I never thought of linking you two together." "She never gave you cause to suspect it?" "Never. If she had it would have been known and talked of. These things get about, you see." "What you say makes me think all the better of her. May I proceed with my questions?" "You may." Had Mr. Manners been inclined to reflect, in his usual spirit, under the peculiar nature of this conversation, he would have loftily resented Mr. Parkinson's occupation of the higher ground; but in truth there was that stirring within him which humbled him; and it is good to know that it humbled without mortifying him. "Are Mrs. Manners and her daughter," he asked, "living alone? Is she a widow?" "No," replied Mr. Parkinson. "She is married, and lives with her husband." "Are you acquainted with his Christian name?" "Yes. It is Kingsley."