"Look you here, Bet--what's the good of argufying, and angering a
fellow what's your own father? You wouldn't stay in Paradise Row but
for me--now, would you, Bet? It ain't the place a likely girl like you
would fancy--is it, Bet?"

"I'm going to stay there," said Bet; "it's no question of like or not
like. Mother Bunch's, Paradise Row, is where I'm to be found, ef I'm
wanted."

"But look you here, my lass--suppose I was to promise you faithful
that I'd never touch the lads--that I'd leave them with you to bring
up as you could--suppose I was to promise that most solemn, and mean
it most faithful; and suppose I was even to go from Liverpool--quite
far away, say to London or some such place--would you stay in Paradise
Row then, Bet?"

Bet looked steadily at the man who walked with slouching gait at her
side. From head to foot she viewed him. Then she said, in a sad, deep
tone:

"You're not likely to make that promise, father. Ef you did--ef you
made it faithful and true, and ef you went away from Liverpool--why
then, then I would not stay in a place what I hates."

Granger chuckled.

"I thought you were my lass, arter all," he said; "I thought as you
was bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh, and that you couldn't stand
what's real awful low slums--_you_, as has been brought up in
Sparrow Street. Why, it ain't likely--you, the neatest lass in the