Mrs Temple had known little—­indeed nothing—­of the habits of such a class as that to which our gay friend belonged; but be this as it may, his last words struck her quickly and forcibly.

“Do you make purchases, then?” she said.

“I do, ma’am, plaise your honor,” replied the pedlar.

“Stop a moment, then,” she replied.  “I have some superfluous articles of dress that I may dispose of.”

The whole mother rushed into her heart at the thought; the tender and loving wife forgot everything but the means of obtaining food for her husband and children.  She went to her dressing-room, and in a few minutes returned, accompanied by Lilly Stewart, her own servant-maid previous to ker marriage, to whom their recent distresses had been no secret, and who was deeply and deservedly in the confidence of the family.

Whilst she was, absent in her dressing-room the pedlar resumed his song, as was his custom when alone—­a circumstance which caused Mrs. Temple to remark, as she and Lilly went down to, the parlor—­“Alas! dear Lilly, what a mistaken estimate does one portion of mankind form of another.  This poor pedlar now envies us the happiness of rank and wealth which we do not feel, and I—­yes, even I—­what would I not give to be able to carol so light-hearted a song as that which he is singing!  Who is this man, Lilly, do you know him?”

“Why, ma’am, if all they say is true, every one knows him, and nobody knows him.  He’s known as the Cannie Soogah, or jolly pedlar.  They say, that although he prefers this kind of life, he’s very wealthy.  One person will tell you that he’s a great rogue, and would cheat Satan himself, and others say he’s generous and charitable.  In other respects,” continued.  Lilly, blushing, “he’s not very well spoken of, but it may be false.  I have always found him myself very civil; and them that spoke harshly of him were people that he kept at a distance.”

The pedlar ceased his song as soon as they made their appearance in the parlor, into which Lilly admitted him for the sake of mutual convenience.

“Here’s a shawl—­a beautiful shawl, Mr. ——­ what’s this your name is?”

“The name that I have for set days and bonfire nights,” he replied, “is one I seldom tell,” and at the same time there was a dry air of surprise about him on hearing her ask the question; “but the name I am generally known by is the Cannie Soogah, which manes, ma’am,” he added, addressing himself in a respectful manner to Mrs. Temple, “the jolly merchant or pedlar.”

“Well, Cannie,” said Lilly, pronouncing the word with more familiarity than could have been expected from their apparent unaquaintance with each other, “here’s a beautiful shawl that my mistress made me a present of.”

“No, Lilly,” said her mistress, with severity—­for she neither could nor would sanction the falsehood, however delicately and well intended—­“no, do not mislead the man, nor state anything but the truth.  The shawl is mine, my good man, and I wish to dispose of it.”