whom I can journey down this wale of life all
my live long days until death do us part,
without warning or so much as a month's
wages. Bless ye! what a house we shall
make of it!"

"You misunderstand," I said, in something
like crying tones, "you do indeed. If,
indeed, you had only applied earlier—or
come sooner. But I am afraid I am
pledged—"

"Pledged then be it," Mrs. Swipclin
answered with horrible avidity, "from now
henceforth and for ever more. But for coming
an hour before to-morrow night, I could
not do it. Those baggages are too many and
heavy."

"But," said I, nearly frantic, "I don't
mean that. I don't want you to come. I
did not mean to engage you. That is—"

A fearful change came over her face, and I
would have given worlds to have recalled the
fatal words. With alarm, I observed, too
that she was handling abstractedly, the great
wooden ruler that always lay beside my
desk.

"Would ye repeat that," she said, in low
suppressed accents. "I did not catch what
you said."

Repeat? It was impossible; my tongue
clove to the roof of my mouth.

"Do you mean to tell me," Mrs. Swipclin
said, giving a tap with the ruler at every
word, "that you intend a-going back of your
word, given and plighted solemnly afore this
here haltar, as it might be. Do I take you
as meaning to fling me to the winds, as you
would a broked reed? Do I—"

Fling her to the winds! At another season
I would have smiled at the notion. But now
the aspect of the infuriated woman checked
such unseemly mirth.

"What I would convey," I said, soothingly,
"is—"

"What do ye mean?" she said, turning on
me (with a tremendous flourish of the ruler),
and in a high scream that made me tremble.
"Do you think that after a handling and
thumbing of my dischargers" (I remarked in
all my trepidation this unusual final syllable)
"till they are filthy, and bringing me here,
day after day, and engaging of me, that I am
to be put off now at this time of day? What
do you mean? I say, what do you mean?"

With that she stood before me with arms
squared,—an awful picture.

I am timorous by nature, and love a quiet
life above all things in the world. What if
in this lonely house this fierce Amazon should
meditate violence to my person? I might
indeed call vainly for help. Besides, if I had
given my word, and so raised false hopes in
the poor woman's breast—anything was better
than a scene.

"Well, well, Mrs. Swipclin," I said, "you
may indeed be right in what say; and
if I did engage you, of course you must
come." So I continued affecting an easy
carelessness I was far from feeling. "If you
will call some day next week, or next month,
or indeed any time during the course of the
year that you are at leisure—we can talk
it over—"

She smiled—a grim smile—and closed one
eye slowly, passing by the miserable jest
without remark. But she was softened.

"It is all settled, then, and a load off this
blessed breast. I could sing loud, Hallelujacks
now and for ever and ever! O my dear young
gentleman! if you was to know how I have
prayed for this day and hour when I shall
have journeyed down the walley of the shader
of death, and have a young man to look
after me in my old age! I ride now in the
'Aven. O, jubilee!"

Here, in a sort of religious transport, with
eyes turned heavenwards, she stood for some
moments. It was all over, indeed. Useless
struggling further.

"These dischargers," I said, faintly hoping
that even this adoption of her own termination
of the word might propitiate her, "these
dischargers appear—I don't wish to insinuate
anything; but if you could explain—they
seem a little short." To which Mrs. Swipclin
made no reply, beyond profound shaking
of her head backwards and forwards, and a
sort of deep-fetched sigh, that sounded like
whistling of the wind round a contiguous
street corner.

"I beg your pardon! " I said, not gathering
her meaning. But no answer coming, I went
on. "I don't wish to find fault, but here is
Mr. Mildman, for instance; you only—" (I
was at a loss for a suitable word) "resided—
yes—resided with him six weeks. Now, if I
might ask—"

Again mournful and dismalest shaking of
the head, together with significant pointing
to the ground, and then to sky above. She
seemed to murmur, in pious ecstacy, words
sounding like "Gone to glory. Hallelujacks
for ever!" From which I supposed it was to
be inferred, erroneously or not, that her last
employer had been removed to other spheres
above or below.

I did not think it discreet to push the
matter further.

"And this," I said, laying my finger on
another, "two months?"

Much shaking of head again, in reply;
besides which, Mrs. Swipclin had now covered
up her face in a great blue handkerchief.
The tomb had, doubtless, closed over this
gentleman likewise: and not being one to
intrude on the sacredness of sorrow, I let it
pass: and, taking up another:

"And this," I said, delicately, "not quite
three months?" (It was two months and
two days; but no matter.)

Mrs. Swipclin's grief became now quite
hysterical. "Don't, don't," she said, motioning
with her arm. ''don't speak ot him."

"What! dead too?" I said, in astonishment.
"How curious!"