Arabella told the maids to go out. Mr. Pole turned to the breakfast-
table, rubbing his hands. Seeing herself and her case abandoned, Mrs.
Chump gave a deplorable shout. "Ye're crool! and young women that look
on at a fellow-woman's mis'ry. Oh! how can ye do ut! But soft hearts
can be the hardest. And all my seventy-five gone, gone! and no law out
of annybody. And no frightenin' of 'em off from doin' the like another
time! Oh, I will, I will have my money!"

"Tush! Come to breakfast, Martha," said Mr. Pole. "You shall have
money, if you want it; you have only to ask. Now, will you promise to be
quiet? and I'll give you this money--the amount you've been dreaming
about last night. I'll fetch it. Now, let us have no scenes. Dry your
eyes."

Mr. Pole went to his private room, and returned just as Mrs. Chump had
got upon a succession of quieter sobs with each one of which she
addressed a pathetic roll of her eyes to the utterly unsympathetic ladies
respectively.

"There, Martha; there's exactly the sum for you--free gift. Say thank
you, and eat a good breakfast to show your gratitude. Mind, you take
this money on condition that you let the servants know you made a
mistake."

Mrs. Chump sighed heavily, crumpling the notes, that the crisp sweet
sound might solace her for the hard condition.

"And don't dream any more--not about money, I mean," said Mr: Pole.