ended bitterly.

"'T is not so," denied Janice, angrily; "but I'll love no
redemptioner, though he be as good-looking and good-tempered
as you are ill-natured and ugly."

"And who are you," demanded the man, passionately, "to
take such mighty airs? A daughter of a nobody, dubbed
Esquire because he is the biggest bubble in a pint pot."

"I shall not stay here to be insulted," cried Janice, moving
away. But in the doorway her exasperation got the better of
her dignity, and she faced about and said: "You evidently
don't know that my great-grandfather was Edward Byllynge."

The man laughed contemptuously. "Why, you little ninny,"
he retorted, "my great-grandfather was king of England!"

Janice caught hold of the lintel, and stood as if transfixed
for a moment, even the mortifying epithet of the groom forgotten
in her amazement. "A likely tale!" she ejaculated
finally when the first mute surprise was conquered.

The bond-servant had gained control of himself in the
pause, for he quietly rejoined: "'T is true enough, though
nothing to make boast of, save to those who set great store
by grandfathers." Then, in a sadder tone, he added:
"'T was a foolish brag I never thought to make, for it carries
more shame than honour, and 't is therefore best forgotten.
Moreover, I ask your pardon for saying what else I did; 't was