'How many pennies have you got to spend, Biddy?' he said.

Biddy's face sobered again, and the corners of her mouth went down.

'I've got two,' she said in a very meek voice, 'and there would have
been another to-morrow, that's Saturday, if--I--hadn't----'

'What?' asked Mr. Vane.

'Tore my frock,' said Biddy very slowly.

'_Torn_, if you please,' said her father. 'Well, suppose mamma lets you
off as it's the first Saturday at Seacove, that will be threepence, and
suppose I give you three pennies more, that will be sixpence--with
sixpence you could make important purchases at the penny counter, could
she not, Rough?'

'Certainly, I should say,' Randolph replied.

Bridget's face crimsoned with pleasure. She got up from her seat and ran
round to the arm-chair by the fire where Mr. Vane was quietly sipping
his tea, and at the imminent risk of throwing it all over him, flung her
arms round his neck.

'Oh, thank you, papa, _dear_ papa,' she said, 'dear, dear papa, and I do
_so_ hope you'll be like the boy-that-brought-the-potatoes' papa, and
I'm going always to be good now, always.'

Poor Mr. Vane disengaged himself and his tea-cup with some difficulty
from his little daughter's embraces. To his surprise, when he could