"You shall have the shilling. Here it is. We will take care of it till we get to Roxy's Rents, and you shall give it to your mother. What is your name, child?"
"Prue, sir; Little Prue."
Robert Grantham laid his hand on Rathbeal's arm.
"Little Prue!" he said. "That is poor Billy's sweetheart, that he spoke of with his dying breath."
He addressed the child:
"Did you know a poor boy called Billy?"
"Oh, yes, sir; we used to play together. He sed he'd marry me when he grew up, if he could get a suit of clothes. What's become of Billy, sir? I ain't seen 'im for a long time."
"He is happier than he was, my child," said Grantham; "all his troubles are over."
"I'm glad to 'ear that, sir. I wish mine and mother's was."
"They will be, one day. Now, child, we must be moving."