could look upon her now and doubt that the
hour of discharge was very near. The woman standing above her reasoned
that if a word of reproof or advice was to be given there was not much
time to lose. Often, from open door to open door (for the pair
inhabited a double dwelling), often, across the garden fence, she had
called aloud her opinion of her neighbour's goings on; she would seize
the opportunity to give it once again.

"And why ain't yer Dora like a labourer's gal, then?" she demanded,
shrilly accusing. "Oh, Mis' Green! Don't yu, a-layin' there o' your
deathbed, know right well the why and the wherefore? Ha'n't yu borrered
right and left, ha'n't you got inter debt high and low, to put a hape
o' finery on yer mawther's back? Ha'n't yu moiled yerself, an' yu a
dyin' woman, over her hid o' hair? Put her i' my Gladus's clo'es, an'
see what yer Dora 'ud look like. Har, wi' her coloured shues, an' all!"

"They was giv' her," the dying woman faintly protested. "Her Uncle
Willum sent them brown uns along of her brown hat wi' th' welwet bow."

"Now, ain't yu a-lyin', Mis' Green, as yu lay there o' yer deathbed?
Them tales may ha' flung dust i' th' eyes o' yer old man, them i' my
hid is too sharp for no sech a story. Di'n't I see th' name o' 'Bunn o'
Wotton' on th' bag th' hat come out of? An' don't yer brother Willum
live i' London, and ha'n't he got seven of's own to look arter? Ter
think as I sh'd come ter pass ter say sich wards, an' yu a-layin' there
a-dyin'! Ain't yer ashamed o' yerself, Mis' Green. I'm a-askin' of yer
th' question; ain't yer ashamed o' yerself?"

"No, an' ain't," said Mrs Green, feebly whispering.

Beneath the flickering, bruised-looking lids, tears slowly oozed. The
neighbour felt for a pocket-handkerchief under the pillow, and wiped
them away.

"Fact o' th' matter, Mis' Green," she inflexibly pursued her subject,
"yu ha' made a raglar idle o' that gal; yu ha' put a sight o' finery on
'er back, an' stuffed 'er hid wi' notions; an' wha's a-goin ter become
on 'r when you're gone?"

"I was a-wonderin'," the dying woman said, "s'posin' as I was willin'
to speer this here parple gownd o' mine, rolled onder my pillar--I was
a-wonderin', Mis' Barrett, ef so bein' as yu'd ondertake ter carl my
gal's ringolets, now an' agin, for 'er?"

"No," the other said, spiritedly, nobly proof against the magnitude of
the bribe. "That'd go agin my conscience, Mis' Green. I'm sorrer ter be
a denyin' of yer, but y