"I won't detain you long," said Jenny, rising as she spoke, and going near her friends, "We have taken an account of stock you know—and my wages for the last fourteen years, untouched you know, is about equal to the amount of goods. I want you to let Archy Campbell have the goods and the shop, and your good will—and—poor Jenny Hart in the bargain. Archy Campbell has saved money too; will you give your consent?"
"No," thundered out Martin Barton, wide awake, "that I won't. The goods he may have for nothing, the shop he may have for nothing, and our best good will he may have; but as to your leaving us—no, never. Oh, Jenny Hart, Jenny Hart, can you bear to leave us? You may well cry and take on so, Letty; why it is impossible, Jenny Hart—we could not stand it."
"Oh, Jenny Hart, dear Jenny Hart," said Mrs. Martin Barton, wide awake now, falling on the afflicted little maiden's neck, and trembling like a leaf—"don't leave us, we shall both die if you think of leaving us. Martin Barton, don't let us go to Camperdown—that is, to live there, I mean. If she will stay, let us remain and keep shop for her as she has done for us."
"Good heaven," thought Jenny Hart, almost fainting with emotion, "could I have believed that under this untiring money-making spirit there was so much of deep feeling?—and for me too! But I cannot give up Archy Campbell; he has wrought hard for me. If I go with them I must give him up, and that I find I cannot do."
"There is no sleep for us to-night, Jenny"—seeing her hesitate—"how much did you say we were now worth?"
"Why, Archy Campbell was just whispering to me as he went out that you were now worth half a million of dollars, besides the large Camperdown
