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‘It looks very dirty, I must say,’ said Anna.

‘Dirty!’ he laughed—a short, acrid laugh—‘I suppose you’ve called about the rent.’

‘Yes, father asked me to call.’

‘Let me see, this place belongs to you i’ your own right, doesn’t it, Miss?’

‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘It’s mine—from my grandfather, you know.’

‘Ah! Well, I’m sorry for to tell ye as I can’t pay anything now—no, not a cent. But I’ll pay twenty pounds in a week. Tell ye father I’ll pay twenty pound in a week.’

‘That’s what you said last week,’ Anna remarked, with more brusqueness than she had intended. At first she was fearful at her own temerity in thus addressing a superintendent of the Sunday-school; then, as nothing happened, she felt reassured, and strong in the justice of her position.

‘Yes,’ he admitted obsequiously. ‘But I’ve been disappointed. One of our best customers put us off, to tell ye the truth. Money’s tight, very tight. It’s got to be give and take in these days, as ye father knows. And I may as well speak plain to ye, Miss Tellwright. We canna’ stay here; we shall be compelled to give ye notice. What’s amiss with this bank 1 is that it wants pullin’ down.’ He went off into a rapid enumeration of ninety-and-nine alterations and repairs that must be done without the loss of a moment, and concluded: ‘You tell ye father what I’ve told ye, and say as I’ll send up twenty pounds next week. I can’t pay anything now; I’ve nothing by me at all.’