all else.

"You've forgotten the bag, ma'am," said the Captain, drawing his chair
nearer the table.

"So I have; dear me, what is it?" cried Mrs Roby, taking it up. "It's
heavy."

"Gold!" said the Captain.

"Gold?" exclaimed the old nurse.

"Ay, nuggets," said the seaman, opening it and emptying its contents on
the table.

As the old nurse gazed on the yellow heap her black eyes glittered with
pleasure, as though they had derived additional lustre from the precious
metal, and she drew them towards her with a trembling, almost greedy,
motion, at sight of which Captain Wopper's countenance became troubled.

"And did Willie send this to me, dear boy?"

"He did, ma'am, hoping that it would be of use in the way of making your
home more comfortable, and enabling you to keep a better table."

He glanced uneasily round the poor room and at the small loaf as he
spoke, and the old woman observed the glance.

"It is very kind of him, very kind," continued Mrs Roby. "What may it
be worth, now?"

"Forty pounds, more or less," answered the Captain.

Again the old woman's eyes sparkled greedily, and again the seaman's
countenance fell.

"Surely, ma'am," said the Captain, gravely, "things must be uncommon
dear in London, for you tell me that Willum has sent you a deal of money
in time past, but you don't seem to be much the better for it."

"Captain Wopper," said Mrs Roby, putting her hand lightly on the
Captain's arm as it lay on the table, and looking earnestly into his
face, "if you had not been an old and valued friend of my dear Willie--
which I learn that you are from his letter--I would have said your
remark was a rude one; but, being what you are, I don't mind telling you
that I save up every penny I can scrape together for little Netta White,
the girl that has just gone out to fetch the butter. Although she's not
well cared for,--owing to her mother, who's a washerwoman, bein'
overburdened with work and a drunken husband,--she's one of the dearest
creeters I ever did see. Bless you, sir, you'd be amazed if you knew
all the kind and thoughtful things that untrained and uncared for child
does, and never thinks she's doing anything more than other people.
It's all along of her mother's spirit, which is as good as gold. Some
months ago Little Netta happened to be up here when I was at tea, and,
seeing the difficulty I had to move about with my old rheumatic limbs,
she said she'd come and set out my tea and