esolate home
more wretched than ever, to sit down, as we have seen, and murmur,
almost fiercely, "Nobody cares."

For a time she sat silent and motionless, while the deepening shadows
gathered round her, as if they had united with all the rest to intensify
the poor creature's woe.

Presently she began to mutter to herself aloud--

"What's the use o' your religion when it comes to this? What sort of
religion is in the hearts of these," (she pursed her lips, and paused
for an expressive word, but found none), "these rich folk in their silks
and satins and broadcloth, with more than they can use, an' feedin'
their pampered cats and dogs on what would be wealth to the likes o' me!
Religion! bah!"

She stopped, for a Voice within her said as plainly as if it had spoken
out: "Who gave you the sixpence the other day, and looked after you with
a tender, pitying glance as you hurried away to the gin-shop without so
much as stopping to say `Thank you'? She wore silks, didn't she?"

"Ah, but there's not many like that," replied the poor woman, mentally,
for the powers of good and evil were fighting fiercely within her just
then.

"How do you know there are not many like that?" demanded the Voice.

"Well, but _all_ the rich are not like that," said Mrs Frog.

The Voice made no reply to that!

Again she sat silent for some time, save that a low moan escaped her
occasionally, for she was very cold and very hungry, having spent the
last few pence, which might have given her a meal, in drink; and the
re-action of the poison helped to depress her. The evil spirit seemed
to gain the mastery at this point, to judge from her muttered words.

"Nothing to eat, nothing to drink, no work to be got, Hetty laid up in
hospital, Ned in prison, Bobby gone to the bad again instead of goin' to
Canada, and--nobody cares--"

"What about baby?" asked the Voice.

This time it was Mrs Frog's turn to make no reply! in a few minutes she
seemed to become desperate, for, rising hastily, she went out, shut the
door with a bang, locked it, and set out on the familiar journey to the
gin-shop.

She had not far to go. It was at the corner. If it had not been at
that corner, there was one to be found at the next--and the next--and
the next again, and so on all round; so that, rushing past, as people
sometimes do when endeavouring to avoid a danger, would have been of
little or no avail in this case. But there was a very potent influence
of a