Blade-O'-Grass. Golden Grain. and Bread and Cheese and Kisses.

Old Ben Sparrow had genuine cause for his distress. Ruin not only stared him in the face, but laid hold of him with a hard grip. The landlord was as good (or as bad) as his word. He called the following morning for his rent, and as it was not forthcoming, he took an inventory, and put a man in possession. He brought this person in with him. A strange-looking man, with a twelvemonth's growth of hair at least on his face and head, and all of it as white as snow. The faces of Ben Sparrow and Bessie were almost as white as they followed the hard landlord from room to room, like mourners at a funeral. There was first the shop, with very little stock in it, and that little in bad condition. As the landlord said, How could a man expect to do business, and be able to pay his way honestly, when everything he had to sell was stale and mouldy? And old Ben answered humbly:

'Yes, yes, sir; you're quite right, sir. I ought to have known better. It's all my fault, Bessie, my darling; all my fault.' And felt as if, instead of an immediate execution coming to him, he ought to be led off to immediate execution.

'What d'ye call these? asked the landlord contemptuously. 'Figs! Why, they're as shrivelled as-as you are.'

'Yes, yes, sir; quite right, sir. We are, sir, we are; we ought to be put away! We're worth nothing now-nothing now!'

After the shop came the parlour, with the furniture that old Ben had bought for his wedding more than forty years ago; he sobbed as the landlord called out, 'One old armchair, stuffed and rickety!' and said to Bessie: 'Your grandmother's favourite chair, my darling!'

The old fellow could have knelt and kissed the 'one old arm-chair, stuffed and rickety,' he was so tender about it. Then they went into the kitchen; then upstairs to Ben Sparrow's bedroom, and old Ben cried again as 'One old wooden bedstead: wheezy!' went down in the inventory; then into another bedroom, where Bessie and Tottie slept. The man in possession stooped down by the child's bed.

'What are you looking for?' demanded the landlord testily.

'I was thinking the child might be there,' replied the man in possession meekly; 'there is a child, isn't there?'

'What if there is!' exclaimed the landlord. 'Can't sell a child. There's no market for them.'

Old Ben explained: 'There is a child. Poor little Tottie! But we've sent her out to a neighbour's, thinking you would come.'

'And might frighten her, eh?' said the landlord. And shortly afterwards took his departure, leaving the man in possession with strict injunctions not to allow a thing to be taken out of the house.

'You're accountable, mind you,' were his last words.

Bessie and her grandfather felt as if the house had been suddenly turned into a prison, and as if this man, with his strange face and snow-white hair, had been appointed their gaoler. As he did not appear to notice them, old Ben beckoned to Bessie, and they crept out of the parlour into the shop for all the world as if they had been found guilty of some desperate crime. In the shop they breathed more freely.

'What are we to do with him, Bessie?' asked Ben. 'What do they generally do with men in possession? They give 'em tobacco and beer, I've heard. O, dear! O, dear! I don't mind for myself, my darling; I don't mind for myself. It's time I was put away. But for you, Bessie-O, my darling child! what have I done to deserve this? What have I done? What have I done?

'Grandfather,' said Bessie firmly, 'you mustn't go on like this. We must have courage. Now, I've made up my mind what I'm going to do. I'm going to take care of you, dear grandfather, as you have taken care of me. You know how clever I am with my needle, and I intend to get work; and you shall thread my needles for me, grandfather. We can live on very little-'

Her poor white lips began to tremble here, and she kissed the old man again and again, and cried in his arms, to show how courageous she was.

'I beg your pardon,' said a gentle voice behind them. It was the man in possession who spoke. 'I beg your pardon,' he repeated. 'May I beg a word with you in the parlour?'

They dared not for their lives refuse him, and they followed him tremblingly.

'I am aware,' he said then, as they stood before him like criminals, 'that I am here on an unpleasant duty, and that I must appear very disagreeable in your eyes-'

'No, no, sir,' remonstrated Ben, feeling that his fate and Bessie's were in this man's hands; 'don't say that, sir! Quite the contrary, indeed, sir; quite the contrary, eh, Bessie?'

And the arch old hypocrite tried to smile, to show that he was delighted with the man's company.

'-But I assure you,' continued the man, 'that I have no desire to annoy or distress you. I have gone through hardships myself-with a motion of his hand towards his white hair-'as you may see.'

'What is it you want us to do, sir? asked Ben Sparrow. 'I am sure anything you want, such as tobacco or beer-or anything that there is in the cupboard-'

'I want you to feel as if I wasn't in the house. I know, for instance, that this is your sitting-room; I don't want you to run away from it. If you like, I will go and sit in the kitchen.'

'No, no, sir!' implored Ben Sparrow. 'Not for worlds. We couldn't allow such a thing, could we, Bessie? This is my granddaughter, sir! – the dearest child that man ever had! – '

Why, here was the man in possession, as old Ben broke down, actually patting him on the shoulder, and looking into his face with such genuine sympathy, that before Ben knew where he was, he had held out his hand as to a friend! What would the next wonder be?

'That's right,' said the man in possession; 'we may as well be comfortable together, and I shall take it ill of you, if you and your granddaughter do not use the parlour just as if I wasn't here. If you don't, I shall go and sit in the kitchen.'

They could do nothing else, after this, but look upon the parlour as their own again. Bessie felt very grateful to the man for the sympathy he had shown to her grandfather, and she took out her old workbox, and sat down to mend a pair of Tottie's socks. 'The way that child makes holes in her toes and heels is most astonishing,' Ben had often remarked.

The man in possession glanced at the little socks, and then at Bessie so thoughtfully and kindly, that she gave him a wistful smile, which he returned, and said:

'Thank you, child!' in a very sweet and gentle tone.

When dinner-time came, and before they could ask him to share their humble meal, he went to the street-door and called a boy, who, in obedience to his instructions, bought some cold meat and bread at a neighbouring shop. All he asked Bessie to give him was a glass of cold water, and with this and his bread-and-meat he made a good meal. To the astonishment of Bessie and old Ben, they found they were growing to like him. After dinner, he seemed to be drowsy, and sat with closed eyes and thoughtful face in the corner of the room he had appropriated to himself, which, it maybe remarked, was not the warmest corner. Bessie and old Ben talked in whispers at first, so as not to disturb him, but after a time his regular breathing convinced them that he was sleeping; and Bessie laid down her plans to the old man. When they were turned out of the shop they would take one room, Bessie said; they would be very comfortable, she was sure, if they would only make up their minds to be so, and she would work for all three, for grandfather, Tottie, and herself. Indeed, the girl showed herself so much of a true woman in her speech, that she was almost beginning to persuade the old man that what had occurred was, after all, no great misfortune.

'How strange that his hair should be white!' remarked Ben, looking at the sleeping man. 'He does not seem old enough for that. He isn't very attentive to his duties, whatever they may be. Why, Bessie,' said the old man in a whisper that was almost gleeful, 'we could actually run away!' But his thoughts assumed their sadder tenor immediately afterwards, and he sighed, 'Ah, Bessie! What will George think of all this? They've had trouble at home too, Bessie dear, during the strike. I often wished, during that time, that I could have gone and sat with them, and comforted them; and you wished so too, Bess, I know.'

'Yes, dear,' answered Bess in a quiet tone, 'I wished so too. But George might have put a wrong construction upon it.'

'Bess, darling, tell me-'

'No, no!' cried Bessie, holding up her hands entreatingly, for she anticipated what he was about to say. 'Don't ask me, grandfather! It can never, never be! O my dear, I try to forget, but I can't!' She paused, unable to proceed for her tears, but presently said, 'I should be so much happier if he thought better of me-although I know we can never be to each other what we were! I was angry and indignant at first, but I am not so now. If he had only answered me about Tottie-dear little Tottie-'

The man murmured in his sleep, and they spoke in hushed voices.

'It was wrong of me to doubt him,' continued the girl, 'very, very wrong! I should have trusted him, as he told me to. He can never think well of me again-never, never! But do you know, dear, that I have loved Tottie more since that time than I did before-poor little motherless thing! I shall never be happy again! Never again! O, my poor heart!'

It was Ben's turn now to be the consoler, and he soothed her, and caressed her, and suddenly cried:

'Bessie! young Mr. Million!'

What made Bessie turn white at the name? What made her gasp and bite her lips, as the young gentleman entered the room?

'I am grieved to hear of what has happened, Mr. Sparrow,' he said, taking off his hat; 'and I have come at once to ask if you will allow me to assist you.'

'Hush, if you please, sir,' returned Ben. 'Speak low. That-that man in the corner has been put in by the landlord, and I shouldn't like to wake him. We are in great distress-ruined, I may say, sir-'

'Then let me help you,' interrupted young Mr. Million eagerly. 'It will be a pleasure to me. Let me pay this man off. You and Miss Sparrow will confer an obligation upon me-believe me! – if you will allow me to do this.'

'I thank you for your offer, sir,' replied Ben, with a helpless look around the humble room in which he had spent many happy years, 'but'-something in Bessie's face imparted a decision to his voice-'it can't be, sir, it can't be.'

'Why?'

'Well, sir, it might get talked about, and that wouldn't do Bessie any good. You see, sir, you are so far above us that it's impossible we-we can mix, sir. Yes, sir, that's it; it's impossible we can mix. No, sir, it can't be.'

Young Mr. Million was silent for a few moments, and tapped with his fingers impatiently on the table.

'For some time,' he then said, 'I have seen that you and Miss Sparrow have rejected my advances, and have been different from what you were. Why, may I ask again?'

'Well, sir,' replied old Ben, emboldened by the expression on Bessie's face, 'it will be best to speak plain. You see, sir, the neighbours will talk; and when they see a gentleman like you always a-visiting poor people like us, they want to know the reason of it. And as we've no reason to give, they make one for themselves. People will talk, you see, sir; and I am afraid that my Bessie's name-my Bessie! the best girl in the world, sir; good enough to be a Princess-'

'That she is,' put in young Mr. Million.