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on Friday, cut them for sorrow.

      Cut them on Saturday, see sweetheart to-morrow.

      Cut them on Sunday, cut them for evil:

      The whole of the week you'll be ruled by the – "

      What could be simpler and more direct? And in the matter of nails, Tom abided by it.

      "Wot day in the week was you born?" asked 'Melia Jane.

      "Blessed if I know," answered Tom.

      "'Ow could you be so careless," said 'Melia Jane, severely, "as not to get to know? Then we could settle it?"

      "Settle what, 'Melia Jane?"

      "Why, don't you know?" she replied.

      "'Monday's child is fair of face.

      Tuesday's child is full of grace.

      Wednesday's child is loving and giving.

      Thursday's child works hard for a living.

      Friday's child is full of woe.

      Saturday's child has far to go.

      But the child that is born on Sabbath-day

      Is bonnie and happy, and wise and gay.'"

      "I say Thursday," said Tom, good-humouredly. "That's the most likely day for me."

      "I say Sabbath-day," said 'Melia Jane.

      "That won't fit," said Tom. "Happy? Yes. And gay, sometimes. But wise? No, no, 'Melia Jane; not a bit of it."

      But in argument Tom was a child in the hands of 'Melia Jane, and she generally succeeded in compelling him to subscribe to her views. She had a very effective method of punishment if he persisted in holding out. She was, in Tom's eyes, a very wonderful fortune-teller with the cards, and to have his fortune told half a dozen times a week became a perfect passion with him. Nothing pleased 'Melia Jane more than the opportunity of laying out the cards; but she could successfully resist the temptation when Tom was obstinate. It was in vain for him to implore; she was adamant. At length he would say, "I give in, 'Melia Jane; I give in." And out would come a very old and terribly thumbed pack, and with a solemn face Tom settled down to the onerous task of cutting the cards again and again, in accordance with 'Melia Jane's complicated instructions. It was not at all material that last night's fortune was diametrically opposite to the fortune of to-night; nor that last night it was a fair woman, and to-night a dark one; nor that last night Tom was to be greeted by a coffin, and to-night by a baby. The point was that the fortune was to be told, and that being done, no reference was made to inconsistencies and contradictions. 'Melia Jane and Tom would sit staring, open-mouthed, at the finger of fate, whose smudgy impress was to be found on every card in the pack. She was telling his fortune now, on the night before the production of A Heart of Gold.

      "The four of clubs, Tom. A strange bed."

      "Ah," said Tom. "I wonder where?"

      "The eight of spades. That's trouble, Tom."

      He pulled a long face.

      "And there's that dark woman, agin. Who can she be?"

      "I wonder, now!" said Tom, turning over in his mind every dark woman whom he could call to remembrance.

      "Well!" cried 'Melia Jane. "Did you ever? Jest look, Tom. The ten of 'earts and the four of 'earts next door to each other. A wedding and a marriage bed. And if there ain't the seven and the six of spades! A doctor and a birth!"

      "Never!" exclaimed Tom, aghast.

      "Here it is. There's no going agin it. Oh, Tom! here's tears; and here's disappointment and sickness. Take care of that dark woman; she's up to no good."

      "Ain't she?" cried Tom, energetically. "I'll keep a sharp eye on her."

      The fortune being ended, the cards were put away in a drawer in the dresser, and 'Melia Jane proceeded to discuss lighter and less important matters.

      CHAPTER VI

      THE FIRST NIGHT OF "A HEART OF GOLD."

      Three-quarters of an hour before it was time to start for the Star Theatre, Fred Cornwall with a cab was at the Lethbridges' door. There was no one but 'Melia Jane to receive him. Everybody was dressing, and 'Melia Jane, with a jug of hot water in her hand, informed Fred Cornwall that "Miss Phœbe, sir, she do look most lovely," for which she received a sixpenny bit.

      "Take these flowers up to the ladies, 'Melia Jane," said Fred, "and be careful you don't mix them. These are for Mrs. Lethbridge; these are for Miss Lethbridge; these for Miss Farebrother; and ask them how long they will be."

      "Lor', sir!" exclaimed 'Melia Jane, "now you're 'ere they'll be down in no time."

      "That foolish boy," observed Fanny, when the flowers were brought into the girls' bedroom, "will ruin himself. You will have to check him, Phœbe. But what taste he has! Did you ever see anything more exquisite? I knew he would bring us flowers. And of course he has the cab at the door, waiting; he hasn't the least idea of the value of money. I shall have to give him a good talking to, the foolish, extravagant boy!"

      This was a new fashion of Fanny's – to put on matronly airs and to talk of Fred Cornwall as a foolish boy. He was greatly amused by it, and he listened to her lectures with a mock-penitential air, which caused her to deliver her counsels with greater severity.

      "You are a model of punctuality," he said, as Fanny sailed into the room.

      "And you're a modeller," retorted Fanny gaily. "How do I look?" turning slowly round.

      "Beautiful!" exclaimed Fred, advancing eagerly as Phœbe entered.

      "Oh, of course," cried Fanny. "Come here, Phœbe," taking her cousin's hand. "He sha'n't admire one without the other."

      With looks and words of genuine admiration, Fred scanned and criticised the girls, who, truly, for loveliness, would take the palm presently in the Star Theatre.

      "That's very sweet of you," said Fanny, when he came to the end of an eloquent speech, "and you may kiss my hand. But don't come too near me; I mustn't be crushed; and Phœbe mustn't, either. Oh, my dear, beautiful mother!" And the light-hearted girl ran to her mother, who at this moment entered the room.

      Aunt Leth was the picture of a refined, gentle-hearted sweet-mannered lady. She had her best gown on, of course; and so cleverly had she managed that it looked, if not quite new, at least almost as good as new. She gazed with wistful tenderness at her daughter and niece, and kissed them affectionately; then she greeted Fred, and thanked him for the flowers.

      Phœbe and Fanny had already thanked him, and when he gave Uncle Leth a rose for his coat (he himself wearing one), Fanny whispered to Phœbe that she had not a fault to find with him.

      "What I like especially about Fred," said Fanny, "is that when he does a thing he does it thoroughly. Did you notice how pleased dear mamma was when he gave papa the rose? He could not have delighted her more. You lucky girl!"

      Altogether Fred's position in that affectionate family was an enviable one, and if he was not a proud and happy young fellow as he rattled away with them to the Star Theatre, he ought to have been. Any gentleman in London would have been happy to be in his shoes.

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