shavings, bundled them up with such towels
as were in the room, and put them out of the
window, Warrender being below, ready to
receive them. She did not venture to let the
poor mother see them, delirious as she was.
Softly did Mary tread on the floor, and go
down the creaking stair. When she reached
the street she drew in, with a deep sigh, the
morning air.

"The poor children's bedding," she said to
Warrender.

"They are gone? " he inquired. " What,
both? "

"One just before midnight. The other half-
an-hour ago. And their mother will follow
soon."

"The Lord have mercy upon us," said
Warrender, solemnly.

"I think it is mercy to take a family thus
together," replied Mary. " But I think of
poor Aunty. If I could find any one to sit
here for half-an-hour, I would go to her, and
indeed, I much wish it."

"There is a poor creature would be glad
enough to come, ma'am, if she thought you
would countenance it. A few words will tell
you the case. She is living with Simpson,
the baker's man, without being his wife.
Widow Johnson was very stern with her, and
with her daughter, Billiter, for being
neighbourly with the poor girl—though people do
say that Simpson deceived her cruelly. I am
sure, if I might fetch Sally, she would come,
and be thankful; and—"

"O! ask her to come and help me. If she
has done wrong, that is the more reason why
she should do what good she can. How is
Ann?"

"Pretty well. Rather worn, as we must all
expect to be. She never stood so many hours
at the wash-tub, any one day, as she does
now every day: but then, as she says, there
never was so much reason."

"And you, yourself?"

"I am getting through, ma'am, thank you.
I seem to see the end of the white-washing,
for one thing. They have sent us more
brushes of the right sort from O——, and I
should like, if I could, to get two or three
boys into training. They might do the out-
houses and the lower parts, where there are
fewest sick, while I am upstairs. But, for
some reason or other, the lads are shy of me.
There is some difference already, I assure you,
ma'am, both as to sight and smell; but there
might be more, if I could get better help."

"And you are careful, I hope, for Ann's
sake, to put all the linen first into a tub of
water outside."

"Yes, surely. I got the carpenter's men to
set a row of tubs beside our door, and to
promise to change the water once a day. I
laughed at them for asking if they could catch
the fever that way: and they are willing
enough to oblige where there's no danger.
Simpson offered to look to our boiler as he
goes to the bakehouse when, as he says, Ann
and I ought to be asleep. I let him do it and
thank him; but it is not much that we sleep,
or think of sleeping, just now."

"Indeed," said Mary, " you have a hard life
of it, and without pay or reward, I am afraid.
I never saw such—"

"Why, ma'am," said Warrender, " you are
the last person to say those sort of things.
However, it is not a time for praising one
another, when there are signs in the heaven,
and God's wrath on earth."

"You saw the comet, did you? How
beautiful it is! It will cheer our watch at
nights now. Ah! you see I don't consider it
anything fearful, or a sign of anything but
that, having a new sort of stars brought before
our eyes to admire, we don't understand all
about the heavens yet, though we know a
good deal; and just so with the fever: it is a
sign, not of wrath, as I take it, but that the
people here do not understand how to keep
their health. They have lived in dirt, and
damp, and closeness, some hungry and some
drunken: and when unusual weather comes,
a wet spring and a broiling summer, down
they sink under the fever. Do you know, I
dare not call this God's wrath.'

Warrender did not like to say it, but the
thought was in his mind, why people were
left so ignorant and so suffering. Mary was
quick at reading faces, and she answered the
good fellow's mind, while she helped to hoist
the bundle of linen on his shoulder.

"We shall see, Warrender, whether the
people can learn by God's teaching. He is
giving us a very clear and strong lesson now."

Warrender touched his hat in silence, and
walked away.

Aunty had for some time been out of
danger from the fever, or Mary could not
have left her to attend on the Billiters, urgent
as was their need. But her weakness was so
great that she had to be satisfied to lie still all
day in the intervals of Mary's little visits.
Poor Jem brought her this and that, when she
asked for it, but he was more trouble than
help, from his incurable determination to
shut all doors and windows, and keep a
roaring fire: he did everything else, within
his power, that his mother desired him, but
on these points he was immoveable. If ever
his mother closed her eyes, he took the
opportunity to put more wood on the fire; and
he looked so grievously distressed if requested
to take it off again, that at last he was let
alone. Mary was fairly accustoming him to
occupy himself in bringing pails of water
and carrying away all refuse, when she was
summoned to the Billiters; but the hint was
given, and the neighbours saw that they need
no longer use water three or four times over
for washing, while poor Jem was happy to
carry it away, rinse the pails, and bring fresh.
His cousin Mary had often of late found him
thus engaged: but this morning he was at
home, cowering in a chair. When she set the
windows open, he made no practical objection;