e two months," he replied in a weak voice.

"Sit down," said Mrs. Mitchell, pushing the best chair to her
sister-in-law, and standing by the table to resume her work.

"We did not know Tom was ill," said Mrs. Rowles.

"I daresay not," answered Mrs. Mitchell.

"I would have come sooner to see him if I had known."

"Oh, it is no use to bother one's relations when one falls into
misfortunes. It is the rich folks who are welcome, not the poor ones."

"I hope you will make _me_ welcome," said Mrs. Rowles, "though I am
not rich."

"Well, you are richer than we are," remarked Mrs. Mitchell, softening
a little, "and you are welcome; I can't say more. But I daresay if
you had known what a place you were coming to you would have thought
twice about it. Six months we have had of it. First there were the
changes made at the printing-office, and then the men struck work, and
there was soon very little to live on; for it's when the strike
allowance doesn't come in so fast that the pinch comes."

Mrs. Rowles looked round to see where the children could be hiding.
Not a child's garment was to be seen, nor a toy.

"Where are the children?" she asked, half fearing to hear that they
were all dead.

"Albert has got a little place in the printing-office. He was took on
when Tom was laid up with rheumatic fever. Juliet is gone to the
kitchen to try if she can get a drop of soup or something. They only
make it for sick people now the hot weather has set in. Florry and
Tommy and Willie and Neddy are all at school, because the school-board
officer came round about them the other day. But it is the church
school as they go to, where they ain't kept up to it quite so sharp.
They will be in presently."

"And the baby?"

"Oh, the baby is out with Amy. He's that fractious with his teeth that
Thomas can hardly put up with him in the house."

Mrs. Rowles was now taking out the good things from her basket. She
produced a piece of bacon, some beans, about a peck of peas, a
home-made dripping cake, and some new-laid eggs.

"Edward packed it with his own hands," she explained. "He hoped you
would not be too proud to accept a few bits of things from the
country."

"Proud? Me proud?" and Mrs. Mitchell burst into tears.

"We are too hungry to be proud," said the sick man, with more interest
in his tone. "They do smell good. They remind me of the country."

After rubbing her eyes Mrs. Rowles looked about for a saucepan, and,
having found