had made a potato pie with some scraps of meat
Peggy had brought from the butcher's, and had seen the dish emptied by
the hungry children. When I had fed the sandy cat and had had my own
dinner, which Mrs. Barton had packed in a nice clean basket, and had
peeped at my patient, I went upstairs to help Hope, and Peggy went
with me. The state of the sleeping-rooms had horrified me in the morning;
the windows had evidently not been open for weeks, and the sheets on
granny's bed were black with dirt. Hope had washed the bedstead, and
Peggy had lighted a fire, that the room might be habitable by night. Tim
came up while we were busy, and stared at us. I was helping Peggy drag
the mattresses and bedclothes into the passage. The open windows and the
wet boards reeking with soft soap evidently astonished him.

'Where be us to sleep to-night?' quoth Tim; 'it is colder than in the
yard.' But Peggy, who was excited by her work, bade him hold his tongue
and not stand gaping there blocking up the passage.

I had been singing over my work, just to put heart into all of us and
make us forget what a very disagreeable business it was, when Tim again
made his appearance and said there was a gentleman in the kitchen. 'He
thought he knowed him, but wasn't sure, but he had asked for the lady.'
I went down at once, and found it was Mr. Tudor; he was sitting very
comfortably by the fire, with all the children round him; little Janie
was on his knee; her face was clean, and her pretty curls had been nicely
brushed, so I did not mind her cuddling up to him, and I knew he was fond
of children and always ready to play with them.

He put her down and shook hands with me, and said the vicar had sent him
to look after me, as he could not come himself. I thought he looked a
little amused at my appearance; and no wonder. I had quite forgotten that
I had tied a handkerchief over my head to keep the dust from off my hair;
with my holland bib-apron and sleeves, and pinned-up dress, I must have
looked an odd figure; but when I said so he laughed, and observed that he
rather admired my novel costume: it reminded him of a Highland peasant he
had once seen.

'Was that you who were singing just now, Miss Garston?' he asked
presently, looking at me with some attention.

'Yes,' I returned. 'You seem surprised. Surely you have heard me sing at
Hyde Park Gate?' But he shook his head very decidedly.

'I should not have forgotten your voice if I had once heard