lgar girl; she despised her brother
Bob because he' had allowed himself to be inveigled by Clem; in
intellect, in social standing, she considered herself out of all
comparison with the landlady's daughter. Clem had the obvious advantage
of being able to ridicule the Hewetts' poverty, and did so without
sparing. Now, for instance, when Clara was about to pass with a distant
'Good-night,' Clem remarked:

'It's cold, ain't it? I wonder you don't put on a ulster, a night like
this.'

'Thank you,' was the reply. 'I shan't consult you about how I'm to
dress.'

Clem laughed, knowing she had the best of the joke.

The other went upstairs, and entered the back-room, where it was quite
dark.

'That you, Clara?' asked Amy's voice. 'The candle's on the
mantel-shelf.'

'Why aren't you asleep?' Clara returned sharply. But the irritation
induced by Clem's triumph quickly passed in reflection on Sidney's mode
of leave-taking. That had not at all annoyed her, but it had made her
thoughtful. She lit the candle. Its light disclosed a room much barer
than the other one. There was one bed, in which Amy and Annie lay
(Clara had to share it with them), and a mattress placed on the floor,
where reposed little Tom; a low chest of drawers with a very small
looking-glass upon it, a washstand, a few boxes. Handsome girls,
unfortunate enough to have brains to boot, do not cultivate the patient
virtues in chambers of this description.

There was a knock at the door. Clara found her father standing there.

'Have you anything to tell me, my girl?' he asked in a subdued voice,
furtively regarding her.

'I shall go on Monday.'

He drew back a step, and seemed about to return to the other room.

'Father, I shall have to give Mrs. Tubbs the five shillings for a few
weeks. She's going to let me have a new dress.'

'Your earnin's is your own, Clara.'

'Yes; but I hope very soon to be able to give you something. It's hard
for you, having no work.'

John brightened wonderfully.

'Don't you trouble, my dear. That's all right. Things'll come round
somehow. You're a good girl. Good-night, my darlin'!'

He kissed her, and went consoled to his rest.

Miss Peckover kept going up and down between the kitchen and the
front-door. Down below, Jane was cleaning a copper kettle. Clem, who
had her sweetest morsel of cruelty yet in store, had devised this
pleasant little job as a way of keeping the child employed till all was
quiet.

She had just