orious old dotard," said Blueskin,
tossing a packet of papers to Wood, as he followed his leader.

"'Odd's-my-life! what's this?" exclaimed the carpenter, looking at the
superscription of one of them. "Why, this is your writing Dolly, and
addressed to Mr. Kneebone."

"My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of
alarm at the woollen-draper.

"Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters,"
whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?"

"What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn
them. But men _are_ so careless, there's no trusting anything to them!
However, I must try to brazen it out.--Give me the letters, my love,"
she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked
forgeries."

"Excuse me, Madam," replied the carpenter, turning his back upon her,
and sinking into a chair: "Thames, my love, bring me my spectacles. My
heart misgives me. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have
remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in
the way."

CHAPTER VI.

The first Step towards the Ladder.

If there is one thing on earth, more lovely than another, it is a fair
girl of the tender age of Winifred Wood! Her beauty awakens no feeling
beyond that of admiration. The charm of innocence breathes around her,
as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought
and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil.
Beautiful is the girl of twelve,--who is neither child nor woman, but
something between both, something more exquisite than either!

Such was the fairy creature presented to Thames Darrell, under the
following circumstances.

Glad to escape from the scene of recrimination that ensued between his
adopted parents, Thames seized the earliest opportunity of retiring, and
took his way to a small chamber in the upper part of the house, where he
and Jack were accustomed to spend most of their leisure in the
amusements, or pursuits, proper to their years. He found the door ajar,
and, to his surprise, perceived little Winifred seated at a table,
busily engaged in tracing some design upon a sheet of paper. She did not
hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her
head.

It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she
pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most
favourable that might have bee