he poor
soul always calls me his daughter, and me old enough to be his mother
mostly,) says he, 'how comes it that you are never wearied, nor cast
down, and yet you but serve a sinner like yourself; but I do often droop
in my Master's service, and He is the Lord of heaven and earth?' Says I,
'I'll tell ye, sir: because ye don't eat enough o' vittels.'"

"What an answer!"

"Why, 't is the truth, dame. And says I, 'If I was to be always fasting,
like as you be, d' ye think I should have the heart to work from morn
till night?' Now, wasn't I right?"

"I don't know till I hear what answer he made," said Mrs. Gaunt, with
mean caution.

"O, he shook his head, and said he ate mortal food enow, (poor simple
body!) but drank too little of grace divine. That were his word."

Mrs. Gaunt was a good deal struck and affected by this revelation, and
astonished at the slighting tone Betty took in speaking of so remarkable
a man. The saying that "No man is a hero to his valet" was not yet
current, or perhaps she would have been less surprised at that.

"Alas! poor man," said she, "and is it so? To hear him, I thought his
soul was borne up night and day by angels' pinions--"

The widow interrupted her. "Ay, you hear him preach, and it is like
God's trumpet mostly, and so much I say for him in all companies. But I
see him directly after; he totters in to this very room, and sits him
down pale and panting, and one time like to swoon, and another all for
crying, and then he is ever so dull and sad for the whole afternoon."

"And nobody knows this but you? You have got my old petticoat still, I
see. I must look you up another."

"You are very good, dame, I am sure. 'T will not come amiss; I've only
this for Sundays and all. No, my lady, not a soul but me and you. I'm
not one as tells tales out of doors, but I don't mind you, dame; you are
my old mistress, and a discreet woman. 'T will go no further than your
ear."

Mrs. Gaunt told her she might rely on that. The widow then inquired
after Mrs. Gaunt's little girl, and admired her dress, and described her
own ailments, and poured out a continuous stream of topics bearing no
affinity to each other except that they were all of them not worth
mentioning. And all the while she thus discoursed, Mrs. Gaunt's
thoughtful eyes looked straight over the chatterbox's white cap, and
explored vacancy; and by and by she broke the current of twaddle with
the majestic air of a camelopard marching a