"Yes, but was that little bit of dirty white paper, tore out of an old book, worth all that money?"
"Yes! after I had drawn a check upon it!"
"I didn't know! I didn't understand! I was sort o' dazed with grief, I suppose."
"But what became of the paper, Hannah?"
"Mrs. Jones lit the candle with it!"
"Oh! Hannah!"
"Was the money all lost? entirely lost because that little bit of paper was burnt?"
"To you and to Ishmael it was, of course, since you never received it; but to me it was not, since it was never drawn from the bank."
"Well, then, Mr. Brudenell, since the money was not lost, I do not so much care if the check was burnt! I should not have used it for myself, or Ishmael, anyhow! Though I am glad to know that you did not neglect him, and leave him to perish in destitution, as I supposed you had! I am very glad you took measures for his benefit, although he never profited by them, and I never would have let him do so. Still, it is pleasant to think that you did your duty; and I am sorry I was so unjust to you, Mr. Brudenell."
"Say no more of that, Hannah. Let us talk of my son. Remember that it is only to you that I can talk of him. Tell me all about his infancy and childhood. Tell me little anecdotes of him. I want to know more about him than the judge could tell me. I know old women love to gossip at great length of old times, so gossip away, Hannah—tell me everything. You shall have a most interested listener."