say that _once_ you were a real good
one."

"Is it indeed gone so far?" replied she. "Poor boy! poor boy! Yes, Jack,
to my shame be it spoken, I once did receive things and buy them when
they were not honestly come by, and now I'm rebuked by a child. But,
Jack, I was almost mad then; I had that which would have turned any
one's brain--I was reckless, wretched; but I don't do so any more. Even
now I am a poor sinful wretch--I know it; but I'm not so crazy as I was
then. I have done so, Jack, more's the shame for me, and I wish I could
recall it; but, Jack, we can't recall the past. Oh, that we could!"

Here old Nanny pressed her hands to her temples, and for some time was
silent. At last she continued, "Why did I love you, Jack?--Because you
were honest. Why did I lend you money--I, an old miserly wretch, who
have been made to dote on money; I, who have never spent a shilling for
my own comfort for these ten years?--But because you were honest. Why
have I longed the whole day to see you, and have cared only for
you?--Because I thought you honest, Jack. I don't care how soon I die
now. I thought the world too bad to live in; you made me think better of
it. Oh! Jack, Jack, how has this come to pass? How long have you known
these bad people?"

"Why, mother," replied I, much affected, "only last night."

"Only last night? Tell me all about it; tell the truth, dear boy, do."

I could hold out no longer, and I told her everything that had passed.

"Jack," said she, "I'm not fit to talk to you; I'm a bad old woman, and
you may say I don't practice what I preach; but, Jack, if you love me,
go to Peter Anderson and tell him everything. Don't be afraid; only be
afraid of doing what is wrong. Now, Jack, you must go."

"I will, I will," replied I, bursting into tears.

"Do, do, dear Jack! God bless your heart, I wish I could cry that way."

I walked away quite humiliated; at last I ran, I was so eager to go to
Anderson and confess everything. I found him in his cabin--I attempted
to speak, but I could not--I pulled out the money, put it on the table,
and then I knelt down and sobbed on his knee.

"What is all this, Jack?" said Anderson, calmly; but I did not reply. "I
think I know, Jack," said he, after a pause. "You have been doing
wrong."

"Yes, yes," replied I, sobbing.

"Well, my dear boy, wait till you can speak, and then tell me all about
it."

As soon as I could I did. Anderson heard me without interruption.