Rachel Gray

is accounts. He allowed for rent, for expenditure, for household, for extras, then his face, brimful of ill-disguised exultation, he said to his daughter:

nty-eight pound a-year, net-profit. Well, it stands to reason and common sense, that as I go on, my business will go on improving too; in sho

a hundred and fifty at once,

will

lied Richard Jones, "now, with a hundred and fifty pound for the firs

Mary, who, from hearing her father, had caught up

et me see! Ah!" and he scratched his head. "I think I am getting into what they call compound interest, and, to say the truth, I never was a very quick arithmetician. At all events, it is pretty clear that at the end of ten years, we s

my dear, hadn't you better go to bed?" Mary now s

he tartly replied. "It gives m

vely said Mr. Jones. "I'll not allow my daught

ow," composedly resumed Mary. "I don't l

looked startled, but th

k half so well as you used to, and though Miss Gray is as nice a person as one need wish to meet, I think she might have perceive

e sure to say," observed

f I choose to keep my daughter at home now that I can afford to do so, why shouldn't I? It's a hard case, if, when a man's well o

father remained by the fireside, looking at the g

y hate waiting," he added, thoughtfully, addressing the fire, and giving it a poke, by way of comment, "the ladies always hate it. But, as I was saying, why shouldn't I take some smart young man, and he, of cour

turday it was Sunday; the shop was closed, the street was silent. Young Thomson was brushing his coat in the yard and whistling; Mary was upstairs dressing; another five minutes, and she comes down in straw bonnet lined with pink, clean printed muslin frock, mousseline-de-laine shawl, brown boots and blue parasol. The happy father saw

ms whenever they come t

g morning, and thinking she might be unwell, Rachel Gray sent

d Rachel, "

u Miss, Mary'

she not c

like dress-m

ed Mary; the pale, sickly child reminded her strongly of her own lost sister, and though she could allow for the natural tartness wi

hen she tried to dismiss the matter from her mind; but she could not do so, and when dusk came round, her first act, as soon as she laid by her work, wa

did not recognize Rachel as she ent

ome and serv

Mr. Jones," tim

barrassed, "walk in, you'll find Mary in the

own by the side of the young girl, and, as if nothing had occurred, spoke of the Te

l, "why did you not come to

ted it; still Mary remained silent, but when a third

egan t

her father looking in, "you ain't been sc

ones, I only asked her why s

ing don't agree with my Mary, Miss Gray, and you know I told you from

ck to the shop, he left the p

"if you feel stronger, and more abl

id not

s," said Rachel, pass

he replied, formally. "

f you p

s a spirited, independent sort of thing; and so now endeavoured to think Richard Jones and his daughter- but

e paternal home added much force to the conclusion "that she had much better have stayed with Miss Gray." Mary was too childish, and had ever been too much indulged

nfounded at the accusation, "you said

, only you wouldn't let me; you kept me here to mind the shop.

own his head

hare cried himself, to see the strange perversity of this spoiled child, "who turned upo

, he went round to Rachel Gray's; he had hoped that she might be alone in the little parlour; but no, there sat, as if to increase his mortification, Mrs. Gray, sti

health a week's rest had much improved-much imp

up to utter a stern "No

d contradicted he

ou may send her to-day, if you like. Sh

ank you," said Jones, hu

ve," whispered Rachel

Mary grown tired of his? "It's natural, I suppose," he thought, "it's natural;" and when he entered the shop, where Mary sat sulking behind the counter, a

o-day," he ad

she was down again, and merely nodding to her father as she passed

ght again, "it's very n

nes. She scarcely looked at that young lady the whole day, and when she was gone, and Jane

ay. "What! after the little hussy behaving so

hild," gently o

her ain't a

el s

he is not much be

sy! to think of playing her tricks here! And do you think I'm agoing to stand that?" added Mrs. Gray,

at she is but a child, after all. And, oh, mother!" she added with a sigh, "

eyes and fair hair, like Mary's. Never before had the resemblance struck her; when it came, it acted with overpowerin

ake had its father, whom she had married more for prudential reasons than for motives of affection, become dear to her heart. He was the father of her Jane. For that child's sake, h

away from the bereaved mother's heart. She became more harsh, more morose than she had ever been, and had it been worth the world's while to note or record it, of her too it might have been said, as it was of England's childless King, "that from one sa

cents, "would I could have died for thee! would thou wert

er her face, and moaned wi

a burst of emotion. After a while, Mrs. Gray unveiled her face. It was pale and agitated; but h

vered, "know that I rebelled against the Lord-know that I did not give her up willingly, but only after such agony of mind and heart as a mother goes through when she sees the child she has borne, reared, cherished, fondled,

m. On the threshold, she turned

y come to-mor