VERY HARD CASH.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND.'

CHAPTER VIII.

"WHERE have you been, Julia?"

"Only at the school," she faltered.

"Who was your companion home?"

"Oh, don't be angry with me! It was
Alfred."

"Alfred! His Christian name? You try my
patience too hard."

"Forgive me. I was not to blame this time,
indeed! indeed! You frighten me. What will
become of me? What have I done to be looked
at so?

Mrs Dodd groaned. "Was that young
coquette I watched from my window the child I
have reared? No face on earth is to be trusted
after this? ' What have you done' indeed?
Only risked your own mother's esteem, and
nearly broken her heart." And with these words
her own courage began to give way, and she sank
into a chair with a deep sigh.

At this Julia screamed, and threw herself on
her knees beside her, and cried "Kill me! oh,
pray kill me! but don't drive me to despair with
such cruel words and looks!" and fell to sobbing
so wildly that Mrs. Dodd altered her tone with
almost ludicrous rapidity.

"There, do not terrify me with your impetuosity,
after grieving me so. Be calm, child; let me see
whether I cannot remedy your sad imprudence;
and, that I may, pray tell me the whole truth.
How did this come about?"

In reply to this question, which she somewhat
mistook, Julia sobbed out, "He met me c-coming
out of the school, and asked to s-see me home.
I said ' No thank you,' because I th-thought of
your warning. 'Oh yes!' said he, and would
walk with me, and keep saying he loved me.
So, to stop him, I said "M-m-much ob-liged,
but I was b-busy and had no time to flirt.'
' Nor have' I the in-in-clination,' said he. 'That
is not what others say of you,' said I—you
know what you t-told me, mamma—so at
last he said d-did ever he ask any lady to be
his wife? ' I suppose not,' said I, 'or you
would be p-p-private property by now instead of
p-public.'"

"Now there was a foolish speech; as much as
to say nobody could resist him."

"W-wasn't it? And n-no more they could.
You have no idea how he makes love; he is very
unladylike: keeps advancing, and never retreats,
nor even st-ops. 'But I ask you to be my wife,'
said he. Oh, mamma, I trembled so. Why did
I tremble? I don't know. I made myself cold
and haughty. 'I should make no reply to such
ridiculous questions; say that to mamma, if you
dare!' I said."

Mrs. Dodd bit her lip, and said, "Was there
ever such simplicity?"

"Simple! Why that was my cunning. You
are the only creature he is afraid of; so l thought
to stop his mouth with you. But instead of that,
my lord said calmly, 'That was understood; he
loved me too well to steal me from her to whom
he was indebted for me.' Oh, he has always an
answer ready. And that makes him such a
p-p-pest."

"It was an answer that did him credit."

"Dear mamma! now did it not? Then at
parting he said he would come to-morrow, and
ask you for my hand; but I must intercede with
you first, or you would be sure to say 'No.' So
I declined to interfere: 'w-w-what was it to me?'
I said. He begged and prayed me; 'was it
likely you would give him such a treasure as Me
unless I stood his friend?' (For the b-b-brazen
Thing turns humble now and then.) And oh,
mamma, he did so implore me to pity him, and
kept saying no man ever loved as he loved me,
and with his begging and praying me so passionately,
oh so passionately, I felt something warm
drop from his poor eyes on my hand. Oh! oh!
oh! oh! What could I do? And then, you
know, I wanted to get away from him. So I am
afraid I did just say 'Yes,' but only in a whisper.
Mamma! my own, good, kind, darling mamma,
have pity on him and on me!!! We love one
another so."

A shower of tender tears gushed out in support
of this appeal; and in a moment she was caught
up with Love's mighty arms, and her head laid
on her mother's yearning bosom. No word was
needed to reconcile these two.

After a long silence, Mrs. Dodd said this would
be a warning never to judge her sweet child from
a distance again, or unheard. "And therefore,"
said she, "let me hear from your own lips how