his benevolence, he summoned his builder, and
proposed that he should accompany him over these tenements, in order
that they might agree as to what should be done, and calculate the
outlay; and the house inhabited by Glegg and his daughter happening to
be one of them, the old gentleman, in the natural course of events,
found himself paying an unexpected visit to the unconscious subject of
his last experiment; for the last it was, and so it was likely to
remain, though three months had elapsed since he made it; but its ill
success had discouraged him. There was something about Mary that so
evidently distinguished her from his usual customers; she looked so
innocent, so modest, and withal so pretty, that he thought if he failed
with her, he was not likely to succeed with anybody else.

'Who lives in the attics?' he inquired of Mr Harker, the builder, as
they were ascending the stairs.

'There's a widow and her daughter and son-in-law, with three children,
in the back-room,' answered Mr Harker. 'I believe the women go out
charring, and the man's a bricklayer. In the front, there's a man called
Glegg and his daughter. I fancy they're people that have been better off
at some time of their lives. He has been a tradesman--a cooper, he tells
me; but things went badly with him; and since he came here, his wife
died of the fever, and he's been so weakly ever since he had it, that he
can earn nothing. His daughter lives by her needle.'

Mary was out; she had gone to take home some work, in hopes of getting
immediate payment for it. A couple of shillings would purchase them coal
and food, and they were much in need of both. John was sitting by the
scanty fire, with his daughter's shawl over his shoulders, looking wan,
wasted, and desponding.

'Mr Benjamin, the landlord, Mr Glegg,' said Harker.

John knew they owed a little rent, and was afraid they had come to
demand it. 'I'm sorry my daughter's out, gentlemen,' he said. 'Will you
be pleased to take a chair.'

'Mr Benjamin is going round his property,' said Harker. 'He is proposing
to make a few repairs, and do a little painting and whitewashing, to
make the rooms more airy and comfortable.'

'That will be a good thing, sir,' answered Glegg--'a very good thing;
for I believe it is the closeness of the place that makes us country
folks ill when we come to London. I'm sure I've never had a day's health
since I've lived here.'

'You've been very unlucky, indeed, Mr Glegg,' sa