icult task for those who follow. They had a
right to expect better things of us, Mrs. Ploughman."

"I've not left anything behind," said Mrs. Ploughman decidedly; "not
yet."

"I should hope not," ejaculated Mrs. Crabbe. "No."

"It's the young," said Mrs. Ploughman, "who get the old into trouble.
Nothing ever suits them until they're in mischief; and then it's up to
their elders to pull them out again. I know, for I've seen it, father
and son."

"It is the old," said Mr. Jeminy, "who get the young into trouble."

"Is it, indeed?" said Mrs. Ploughman.

"Well, I don't believe it." And she gave Mr. Jeminy a bright, peaked
look.

"Then," she continued, "when you've done for them, year in and year
out, off they go, and that's the end of it."

"Ah, yes," croaked Mrs. Crabbe; "off they go."

"If it isn't one thing," said Mrs. Ploughman, "it's another. Trouble
and death--that's a woman's lot in this world, like the Good Book says."

"Death is the end of everything," remarked Mrs. Crabbe.

"I'm not afraid to die," Mrs. Ploughman declared. "There's things to
do the other side of the grave, same as here. And it's a joy to do
them, in the light of the Lord. I can tell you, Mrs. Crabbe, I won't
be sorry to go. My folks are waiting there for me." Her voice
trembled, and she rocked up and down to compose herself. "He needn't
try to mix me up," she thought to herself; "not in my own home. No."

"Then," said Mr. Jeminy, "you believe in an after life, Mrs. Ploughman?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Ploughman firmly, directing her remarks to Mrs.
Crabbe, "I do. I believe there's a life hereafter, when our sorrows
will be repaid us. There weren't all those hearts broke for nothing,
Mrs. Crabbe, nor for what's going on here now, with strikes, and
famine, and bloody murders."

"That's real edifying, Mrs. Ploughman," said Mrs. Crabbe, "real
edifying. Yes," she exclaimed with energy, "these are terrible times.
Now they give me tea without sugar in it. For there's no sugar to be
had. Well, I won't drink it. I spit it out, when nobody's looking."

And she plied her needles with vigor, to show what she thought of such
an arrangement.

"As I was saying," said Mrs. Ploughman, "it's the young who get the old
into trouble. And artful folk, who'd ought to know better, with the
life they've had. I've had no peace in this life. But I'll have it
hereafter."

At this reflection upon Mrs. Wicket, Mr. Jeminy rose to go. "You are