Mr. Henry was in the steward's room, affecting employment, but I

could see he was only impatient to hear of my errand.

"Well?" says he, as soon as I came in; and when I had told him

something of what passed, and that Jessie seemed an undeserving

woman and far from grateful: "She is no friend to me," said he;

"but, indeed, Mackellar, I have few friends to boast of, and Jessie

has some cause to be unjust. I need not dissemble what all the

country knows: she was not very well used by one of our family."

This was the first time I had heard him refer to the Master even

distantly; and I think he found his tongue rebellious even for that

much, but presently he resumed - "This is why I would have nothing

said. It would give pain to Mrs. Henry . . . and to my father," he

added, with another flush.

"Mr. Henry," said I, "if you will take a freedom at my hands, I

would tell you to let that woman be. What service is your money to

the like of her? She has no sobriety and no economy - as for

gratitude, you will as soon get milk from a whinstone; and if you

will pretermit your bounty, it will make no change at all but just

to save the ankles of your messengers."

Mr. Henry smiled. "But I am grieved about your ankle," said he,

the next moment, with a proper gravity.

"And observe," I continued, "I give you this advice upon

consideration; and yet my heart was touched for the woman in the

beginning."

"Why, there it is, you see!" said Mr. Henry. "And you are to

remember that I knew her once a very decent lass. Besides which,

although I speak little of my family, I think much of its repute."

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