upon 'em. She used to sit
by the roadside o' Sundays, with a little red handkerchief tied across
her shoulders, and all her dark 'air tumblin' about 'er face, an' she
used to look up with her great big black eyes an' smile at the finicky
fine church misses as come mincin' an' smirkin' along, an' say: 'Tell
your fortune, lady?' She was the prettiest creature I ever saw--not a
good lass--no!--nobody could say she was a good lass, for she went to
Tom without church or priest, but she loved him an' was faithful. An'
she just worshipped her baby." Here Meg paused a moment. "Tom was a real
danger to the country when she died," she presently went on. "He used to
run about the woods like a madman, calling her to come back to 'im, an'
threatenin' to murder any one who came nigh 'im;--then, by and by, he
took to the kiddie, an' he's steadier now."

There was something in the narration of this little history that touched
Helmsley too deeply for comment, and he was silent.

"Well!"--and Meg gave her pony's reins a shake--"I must be off! Sorry to
leave ye standin' in the middle o' the road like, but it can't be
helped. Mind you keep the little dog safe!--and take a woman's
advice--don't walk too far or too fast in one day. Good luck t' ye!"

Another shake of the reins, and "Jim" turned briskly down the lane. Once
Meg looked back and waved her hand,--then the green trees closed in upon
her disappearing vehicle, and Helmsley was again alone, save for
"Charlie," who, instinctively aware that some friend had left them,
licked his master's hand confidentially, as much as to say "I am still
with you." The air was cooler now, and Helmsley walked on with
comparative ease and pleasure. His thoughts were very busy. He was
drawing comparisons between the conduct of the poor and the rich to one
another, greatly to the disadvantage of the latter class.

"If a wealthy man has a carriage," he soliloquised, "how seldom will he
offer it or think of offering its use to any one of his acquaintances
who may be less fortunate! How rarely will he even say a kind word to
any man who is 'down'! Do I not know this myself! I remember well on one
occasion when I wished to send my carriage for the use of a poor fellow
who had once been employed in my office, but who had been compelled to
give up work, owing to illness, my secretary advised me not to show him
this mark of sympathy and attention. 'He will only take it as his
right,' I was assured,--'these sor