They shook hands over this, and in a very few hours it was known that Mr. Little was right with the trade.

His early experiences as a philanthropic master were rather curious; but I shall ask leave to relate them in a series of their own, and to deal at present with matters of more common interest.

He called twice on Grace Carden; but she was out.  The third time he found her at home; but there was a lady with her, talking about the ball Mr. and Miss Carden were about to give.  It was a subject calculated to excite volubility, and Henry could not get in a word edgewise.  But he received some kind glances that made his heart beat.

The young lady sat there and gabbled; for she felt sure that no topic imported by a male creature could compete in interest with “the ball.”  So, at last, Henry rose in despair.  But Grace, to whom her own ball had been a bore for the last half hour, went with him to the door; and he seized the opportunity to tell her he was a workmen no longer, but a master, having workmen under him.

Grace saw he was jubilant, so she was glad directly, and said so.

But then she shook her pretty head, and hoped he would not have to regret Mr. Raby’s offer.

“Never,” said he, firmly; “unless I lose you.  Now I’m a master, instead of a man, won’t you wait two years for me?”

“No,” said Grace, archly.  Then, with a look that sent him to heaven, “Not two, but twenty, sooner than you should be unhappy, after all you and I—­”

The sentence was never completed.  She clapped one hand swiftly before her scarlet face, and ran away to hide, and think of what she had done.  It was full five minutes before she would bring her face under the eye of that young gossip in the drawing-room.

As for Henry, he received the blow full in his heart, and it quite staggered him.  He couldn’t believe it at first; but when he realized it, waves and waves of joy seemed to rise inside him, and he went off in such a rapture he hardly trod the earth.

He went home, and kissed his mother, and told her, and she sympathized with him perforce, though she was jealous at bottom, poor thing.

The next day Grace received an unexpected visitor—­Jael Dence.

Grace stared at sight of her, and received her very coldly.

“Oh, miss,” said Jael, “don’t look so at me that love you dearly;” and with this threw her arms round her neck, and kissed her.

Grace was moved by this; but felt uncomfortable, and even struggled a little, but in vain.  Jael was gentle, but mighty.  “It’s about your letter, miss.”

“Then let me go,” cried Grace.  “I wish I had never written it.”

“Nay; don’t say so.  I should never have known how good you are.”

“What a fool I am, you mean.  How dare you read my letter?  Oh! did he show it you?  That was very cruel, if he did.”

“No, miss, he never showed it me; and I never read it.  I call it mean to read another body’s letter.  But, you know, ’tisn’t every woman thinks so:  and a poor lass that is very fond of me—­and I scold her bitterly—­she took the letter out of his pocket, and told me what was in it.”