“I heard him tell the cabman to drive to Waterloo Station.”

“Nothing more?”

“No.”

“Well, if he won’t tell you, I will.  They have gone down to Hampshire, my lass.  Bedsworth is the name of the place, and it is a pleasant little corner near the sea.  I want you to go down there as well to-morrow.”

“Want me to go?”

“Yes; they need some one who is smart and handy to keep house for them.  There is some old woman already, I believe, but she is old and useless.  I’ll warrant you wouldn’t take long getting things shipshape.  My father intends to stay down there some little time with Miss Harston.”

“And how about you?” the girl asked, with a quick flash of suspicion in her dark eyes.

“Don’t trouble about me.  I shall stay behind and mind the business.  Some one must be on the spot.  I think cook and Jane and William ought to be able to look after me among them.”

“And I won’t see you at all?” the girl cried, with a quiver in her voice.

“Oh yes, you shall.  I’ll be down from Saturday to Monday every week, and perhaps oftener.  If business goes well I may come down and stay for some time.  Whether I do or not may depend upon you.”

Rebecca Taylforth started and uttered an exclamation of surprise.  “How can it depend upon me?” she asked eagerly.

“Well,” said Ezra, in a hesitating way, “it may depend upon whether you are a good girl, and do what you are told or not.  I am sure that you would do anything to serve me, would you not?”

“You know very well that I would, Mister Ezra.  When you want anything done you remember it, but if you have no use for me, then there is never a kind look on your face or a kind word from your lips.  If I was a dog you could not use me worse.  I could stand your harshness.  I could stand the blow you gave me, and forgive you for it, from my heart; but, oh! it cut me to the very soul to be standing by and waiting while you were making up to another woman.  It was more than I can bear.”

“Never mind, my girl,” said Ezra in a soothing voice; “that’s all over and done with.  See what I’ve brought you.”  He rummaged in his pocket and produced a little parcel of tissue paper, which he handed to her.

It was only a small silver anchor, with Scotch pebbles inlaid in it.  The woman’s eyes, however, flashed as she looked at it, and she raised it to her lips and kissed it passionately.

“God bless it and you too!” she said.  “I’ve heard tell as the anchor’s the emblem of hope, and so it shall be with me.  Oh, Ezra, you may travel far and meet them as can play and can sing and do many a thing as I can’t do, but you’ll never get one who will love you as dearly and well.”

“I know it, my lass, I know it,” said Ezra, smoothing down her dark hair, for she had dropped upon her knees beside the couch.  “I’ve never met your equal yet.  That’s why I want you down at Bedsworth.  I must have some one there that I can trust.