an' t' keys hanging in t' lock; and, quick
as thought, I'd opened it, and ta'en out one
of t' notes. Lord forgive me. It was for
Willie I did it, nought else 'ud ha' tempted
me."

She began to whine and whimper, and
slowly fell away into a state of unconsciousness,
and so continued till she died, about two
hours after.

"I knew we should see you restored, Peter
Garnet," said Mr. Elsworthy with a fervent
grasp of his hand as they passed out into the
street. Peter's heart was so full that he
could only repeat, "I thank God, I thank
God!"

There was a keen wind blowing through
and through the elms as he got back to
Widow Deane's and went up-stairs. There,
Richard Preston, all a glow with his cold
walk from Fordham, was entertaining Alice.
Directly they saw him they knew what had
happened.

"Hurray, old master, I said you'd come to
honour and glory yet!" cried Richard with
enthusiasm, and then he fell to kissing Alice
in the most preposterous way,—the selfish
fellow was thinking he should get somebody
to take care of him now.

Peter sat down; and, as soon as he could
collect himself, he told them how it was and
Nanny Liversedge's confession; and then
they were all so surprised and vexed at
themselves for never having suspected the old
woman before, it was so likely she should
have taken it! Alice recalled the extraordinary
rapidity with which Mrs. Hart had said,
the money had been raised to buy Willie's
discharge, and she wondered how she could
have been so stupid as to miss seeing the whole
case at once. After they had discussed it in
all its bearings, and when the time for Richard
to go home was come, he whispered triumphantly
to Alice:

"Get your wedding-bonnet made. I am
not going to wait more than a week
longer!"

While she was pouting her sweet lips to
protest against such absurd impatience, he
lifted her up in his strong arms and vowed
he would run off with her that very minute
if she opened them to make any objection,
and Peter was so changed from his old self
that he said:

"And quite right, too, Richard. She is over
masterful by half."

What could Alice say? If she tried to speak,
Richard stopped her mouth, and her father
abetted him. Well, she resigned herself very
happily to her fate; made her wedding-bonnet
and wedding-gown and married the miller's
man that day week,—a very different bride
from the one who had gone to church in the
morning with clever Mark Liversedge.

VI.

CHRISTMAS DAY at Old St. Ann's was always
kept with roast beef, plum-pudding, and all
other formalities of the season gently let
down to the capacities of charity children.
It was the greatest day in the year to them,
and the boy and girl who was not happy
then, might give up all hope of being happy
ever afterwards. There was holly stuck all
over the dining-hall, and round the founder's
picture; and there was spiced beer in
mugs; and, besides the dinner, there were
buns for tea, and kindred dissipations which
no Saint Ann's scholar ever forgot the
delights of. Well, the bells at Saint Paul's
were ringing as the lads marched into
the dining-hall, two and two,—one half of
them thinking that all that rejoicing was
over the roast beef and plum-pudding which
they were going to eat. They had got into
their places, and were all standing up, ready
to sing grace at the word of command,
when, lo! there was only an empty place at
the head of the table. But at that identical
moment, there appeared in the doorway Mr.
Elsworthy, and close behind him Peter
Garnet.

"Hurray, old master!" screamed a small,
timid boy, who had cried dreadfully when he
left home; but who was now so horrified at
his breach of discipline that he began to
subside into a whimper for fear of
consequences, until Mr. Elsworthy advanced to
the table, and said: "Old master it is, boys,
come back to you. Give him a cheer,—a
good one!"

It was a good one; and the girls, in their
room, heard it, and would have liked to shout
too. Then the beef and pudding began;
after which Peter made his speech, and broke
down, and was cheered on, and broke down
again, and finally gave it up as a useless trial,
with a fervent "God bless you all, my
boys!"

It is five years this Christmas, since Peter
Garnet was restored to his office of Master
at Old Saint Ann's, and the town gave him
that handsome testimonial,—fifty new
sovereigns, in a crimson purse netted by the
hands of Mrs. Mark Liversedge herself.
Mark will be Mayor of Broughton some day.
Meantime, he works early and late in his
dingy office, and spins more money than he
can ever enjoy, and comes home to nightly
repentance in a trim, stiff parlour, with a
scarecrow wife; whose enjoyment it is to rail
at him from her sofa-corner, and to ask him
what he would have been if he hadn't
married her? Privately, Mark thinks he would
have been much happier and quieter; but he
daren't say so for the world. There are many
men who quail before Mark; but not one of
them quails so abjectly as Mark does before
his wife.

Alice is the miller's man's delight, and the
mother of his three tidy boys: who will be
millers, everyone of them, to the last of the
generation. They all take after Richard;
and yet they are the pride and joy of grand-
father's heart: he promises himself that the