she gave her brother a
sounding smack on either cheek.

"Now, don't you pretend again, Bill, that you ain't happy here," she
said, "for ain't it nice to be able to do a bit of good like this now
and then?"

"Of course it is," he replied, "but they only jumps on you afterwards.
Here we're going to do this, and p'r'aps save that child's life; and as
soon as she gets well the first thing she'll do will be to make faces at
your back in the school, as I've seen her do on Sundays over and over
again."

"Oh, I don't mind, Bill."

"But you're not going to the house where that gal's ill?"

"Oh no, Bill dear; I won't go down. Don't you be afraid about that.
And look here; you make a big fight of it, and beat 'em about Miss
Thorne."

"I'm going to," he replied. "But I say, Betsey," he continued, half
turning away his face.

"Yes, Bill."

"Should--should--"

Mr William Forth Burge's collar seemed to be very tight, for he thrust,
one finger between it and his neck, and gave it a tug before continuing
hoarsely--

"I never keep anything from you, Betsey?"

"No, Bill, you don't. You always was a good brother."

"Should--should you mind it much, Betsey, if I was to--to--get married?"

Little Miss Burge stood gazing at him silently for some minutes, and
then she said softly--

"No, Bill; I don't think I should. Not if it was some one nice, who
would make you very happy."

"She is very nice, and she would make me very happy," he said slowly.
"But, Betsey--my--dear--do--you--think--she'd--have me?"

Mr William Forth Burge's words came very slowly indeed at last, and he
rested his arms upon his knees and sat in a bent position, looking down
at the carpet as if waiting to hear what was a sentence of great moment
to his life.

"Bill dear, I know who you mean, of course," said the little woman at
last, tearfully. "I don't know. She likes you, for she told me she
did; but I shouldn't be your own true sister if I didn't say that
p'r'aps it's only as a friend; and that ain't love, you know, Bill, is
it?"

"No," he said softly; "no, Betsey; you're quite right, dear. But I'm
going to try, and--and I'm only a common sort of a chap, dear--if she
says no, I'm going to try and bear it like a man."

"That's my own dear--dear--O Bill, look; if there she isn't coming up to
the house!"

And little Miss Burge ran off to hide her tears.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

WILLIAM FORTH BURGE MAKES LOVE.

Mr William Forth Burge