"But you--a member of the Shirley School! No, you mustn't. I'll do it."

"Nonsense, granny! I'll leave school to-morrow if you don't let me work
for you just the same as ever."

Mrs. Craven sank into her chair.

"You are a good child," she said. "All day I have been so fretting that
we were taking you out of your station; and that is a sad mistake--sad
and terrible. But you are a good child. Yes, go for it, dear; it won't
do you any harm."

Ruth wrapped an old shawl round her head, picked up a jug, and went off
to the nearest public-house. They were accustomed to see her there, for
old Mr. Craven more often than not had his little cask of beer empty.
She went to a side entrance, where a woman she knew served her with what
she required.

"There, Ruth Craven," she said--"there it is. But, all the same, I'm
surprised to see you here to-night."

"But why so?" asked Ruth.

"Isn't it true that you are one of the Shirley scholars now?"

"I am; I joined the school to-day."

"And yet you come to fetch beer for your old grandfather!"