d better go; I can't stand here any longer. I don't bear any
ill-will to you, but it's of no use your talking."

He opened the door, and in another minute Andrew was in the street.

Miriam heard his story. She had anticipated it, and for the moment she
said nothing. Her first care was to prevent her uncle or aunt from
communicating with Cowfold. She foresaw that her father, if he knew
her brother's disgrace, might possibly stop the allowance. She at once
put on her bonnet and called at the shop. She made no appeal for
reconsideration of the sentence--all she asked was that there should be
silence. To this Uncle Dabb assented willingly, for Miriam was half a
favourite with him, and he even went so far as somewhat to apologise
for what he had done.

"But you know," said he, "this is a shop. As I have told him over and
over again, business is business. I couldn't help it, and it's just as
well as he should have a sharpish lesson at first--nothing like that
for curing a man."

Mr. Dabb unfortunately did not know how much it takes to cure a man of
anything.

Miriam felt it would be graceless not to see her aunt, although she had
no particular desire for an interview just then.

"My dear Miriam," began that lady, without waiting for a word, "I do
regret so what has happened. I am so sorry I could not prevent it, but
I never interfere in your uncle's commercial transactions, and
reciprocally he never intrudes into my sphere. It is most
unfortunate--what do you think we can do to arrest this propensity in
your brother?"

Miriam was silent.

"It is astonishing how much may be done by cultivating the finer
emotions. Your brother has always seemed to me not sufficiently
susceptible. Supposing I were to lend you a book of my favourite
poetry, and you were to read to him, and endeavour to excite an
interest in him for higher and better things--who knows?"

Miriam had no special professional acquaintance with the theory of
salvation, but she instinctively felt that a love of drink was not to
be put down by the "Keepsake" in red silk.

She was still silent. At last she said--"I am much obliged to you,
aunt; I will take anything you may like to lend. You have a good deal
of influence, doubtless, over uncle. If you can persuade him to say
what he can in case application is made to him for a character, I shall
think it very kind of you."

"My dear Miriam, I have no influence over your uncle. His is not a
n