ma'am, where was he baptised, and by what name?" said her visitor.

A look of doubt and fear came slowly and wildly into her face as she looked at him.

"Who is he—I've been speaking to you, sir?"

"Oh! yesh, mo-o-st beautiful, you 'av, ma'am," answered he; "and I am your son's best friend—and yours, ma'am; only you tell me where to find him, and he'sh a made man, for all his dayzh."

"Where has he come from?—a stranger," she murmured.

"I told you, ma'am."

"I don't know you, sir; I don't know your name," she dreamed on.

"Benjamin Levi. I'll spell it for you, if you like," he answered, beginning to grow testy. "I told you my name, and showed you my ca-a-ard. Bah! it ravels at one end, as fast as it knits at the other."

And again he held the card of the firm of Goldshed and Levi, with his elbows on the table, between[Pg 29] the fingers of his right and left hand, bowed out like an old-fashioned shopboard, and looking as if it would spring out elastically into her face.

[Pg 29]

"There, ma'am, that'sh the ticket!" said he, eyeing her over it.

"Once, sir, I spoke of business to a stranger, and I was always sorry; I did mischief," said the old woman, with a vague remorsefulness.

"I'm no stranger, ma'am, begging your pardon," he replied, insolently; "you don't half know what you're saying, I do think. Goldshed and Levi—not know us; sich precious rot, I never!"

"I did mischief, sir."

"I only want to know where to find your son, ma'am, if you know, and if you won't tell, you ruin that poor young man. It aint a pound to me, but it'sh a deal to him," answered the good-natured Mr. Levi.

"I'm very sorry, sir, but I once did mischief by speaking to a gentleman whom I didn't know. Lady Verney made me promise, and I'm sure she was right, never to speak about business without first consulting some member of her family. I don't understand business—never did," pleaded she.

"Well, here's a go! not understaan'? Why, there's nothing to understaan'. It isn't business.[Pg 30] S-o-n," he spelt 

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