silver sixpence hanging by a little necklace of blue riband. Ah, but I
knew where the other half of the sixpence was, and envied that happy bit
of silver!

The last day of my holiday I was obliged, of course, to devote to Mrs.
Hoggarty. My aunt was excessively gracious; and by way of a treat
brought out a couple of bottles of the black currant, of which she made
me drink the greater part. At night when all the ladies assembled at her
party had gone off with their pattens and their maids, Mrs. Hoggarty, who
had made a signal to me to stay, first blew out three of the wax candles
in the drawing-room, and taking the fourth in her hand, went and unlocked
her escritoire.

I can tell you my heart beat, though I pretended to look quite
unconcerned.

"Sam my dear," said she, as she was fumbling with her keys, "take another
glass of Rosolio" (that was the name by which she baptised the cursed
beverage): "it will do you good." I took it, and you might have seen my
hand tremble as the bottle went click--click against the glass. By the
time I had swallowed it, the old lady had finished her operations at the
bureau, and was coming towards me, the wax-candle bobbing in one hand and
a large parcel in the other.

"Now's the time," thought I.

"Samuel, my dear nephew," said she, "your first name you received from
your sainted uncle, my blessed husband; and of all my nephews and nieces,
you are the one whose conduct in life has most pleased me."