colored violently, bowed, and involuntarily quickened her pace. Her
companion halted, and looked up to see what had arrested her attention.
When he saw Stephen's face, he said,--

"Pshaw!" and turned again to look at Mercy. The bright color had not yet
left her cheek. The old man gazed at her angrily for a moment, then
stopped short, planted his cane on the ground, and said in a loud tone,
all the while peering into her face as if he would read her very
thoughts,--

"Don't you know that Steve White isn't good for any thin'? Poor stock,
poor stock! Father before him poor stock, too. Don't you go to lettin' him
handle your money, child. Mind now! I'll be a good friend to you, if
you'll do 's I say; but, if Steve White gets hold on you, I'll have
nothin' to do with you. Mind that, eh? eh?"

Mercy had a swift sense of angry resentment at these words; but she
repelled it, as she would have resisted the impulse to be angry with a
little child.

"Mr. Wheeler," she said with a gentle dignity of tone, which was not
thrown away on the old man, "I do not know why you should speak so to me
about Mr. White. He is almost an entire stranger to me as yet. We live in
his house; but we do not know him or his mother yet, except in the most
formal way. He seems to be a very agreeable man," she added with a little
tinge of perversity.

"Hm! hm!" was all the old man's reply; and he did not speak again till
they reached Mercy's gate. Here the clock-carriers were about to set their
burden down. Mr. Wheeler ran towards them with his cane outstretched.