t up to great advantage;
Mrs. King sold a side of it at once, which went a good way towards it,
but not the whole; and there was a bad debt of John Farden's for bread,
contracted last winter, and which he had never paid off in the summer.
That would just have made it up, but what hopes were there of that?

Just then, however, came a parcel from Matilda. It was her way of
helping her family to send them the clothes which her mistresses allowed
her to have when they left them off, when Mrs. King either made them up
for herself or Ellen, or disposed of them at Elbury.

What a treat those parcels were! How curious were all the party at the
unpacking, looking at the many odd things that were sure to come out, on
the happy doubtful certainty that each one would be remembered by the
good sister.

So there were the little directed parcels--a neat knitted grey and black
handkerchief for Mother to wear in the shop; a whole roll of
fashion-books for Ellen, and a nice little pocket-book besides; and a
bundle of 'Illustrated News' to amuse the boys; a precious little square
book of 'Hymns for the Sick' for Alfred; and a famous pair of
riding-gloves, like bears' paws, for Harold. And what rolls besides!
Worn flimsy dresses, once pretty, but now only fit for the old-clothes
man, yet whose trimmings Ellen pulled out and studied; bonnets that
looked as if they had been sat upon; rolls of soft ragged cambric
handkerchiefs, on which Mrs. King seized as the most valuable part of the
cargo, so useful would they be to poor Alfred; some few real good things,
in especial, a beautiful thick silk dress which had been stained, but
which dyeing would render very useful; and a particularly nice grey cloth
mantle, which Matilda had mentioned in her letter as likely to be useful
to Ellen--it was not at all the worse for wear, except as to the lining
of the hood, and she should just fancy Ellen in it.

Ellen could just fancy herself in it. She had a black silk one, which
had come in the same way, and looked very well, but it was just turning
off, and it was not warm enough for winter without a shawl under it. That
grey looked as if it was made for her, it suited her shoulders and her
shape so well! She put it on and twisted about in it, and then she saw
her good mother not saying one word, and knew she was thinking of the sum
that was wanting to the rent.

'Well, Mother,' said Ellen, 'I'll go in and take the things to Betsey on
the next mar