and, after a few words of inquiry as to her health,
asked if I could be of any service to her.

"No, capting, thank 'ee," she said, fumbling with her bag as if in
search of something.

"No news of Stephen or Billy, I suppose?" said I in a sad tone.

"Not yet, capting, but I expect 'em one o' these days, an' I'm a-gettin'
things ready for 'em."

"Indeed! what induces you to expect them so confidently?"

"Well, capting, I can't well tell 'ee, but I do, an' in the meantime
I've come to thank 'ee for all yer kindness to Tottie an' me when we was
in distress. Yer Society, capting, has saved me an' Tottie fro'
starvation, an' so I've come for to give ye back the money ye sent me by
Mr Stuart, for there's many a poor widder as'll need it more nor I do."

So saying, she placed the money on the table, and I thanked her
heartily, adding that I was glad to be able to congratulate her on her
recent good fortune.

"Moreover," continued Mrs Gaff, taking a small bag from the large one
which hung on her arm, and laying it also on the table, "I feel so
thankful to the Almighty, as well as to you, sir, that I've come to give
ye a small matter o' goold for the benefit o' the Society ye b'longs to,
an' there it be."

"How much is here?" said I, lifting up the bag.

"A hundred pound. Ye needn't count it, capting, for it's all c'rekt,
though it _was_ shovelled out to me as if it war no better than coals or
sugar. Good-day, capting."

Mrs Gaff, turning hastily round as if to avoid my thanks, or my
remonstrances at so poor a woman giving so large a sum, seized Tottie by
the wrist and dragged her towards the door.

"Stop, stop, my good woman," said I; "at least let me give you a
receipt."

"Please, capting, I doesn't want one. Surely I can trust ye, an' I've
had my heart nigh broke with bits o' paper this good day."

"Well, but I am required by the rules of the Society to give a receipt
for all sums received."

Mrs Gaff was prevailed on to wait for the receipt, but the instant it
was handed to her, she got up, bounced out of the room, and out of the
house into the street. I hastened to the window, and saw her and Tottie
walking smartly away in the direction of Cove, with their enormous
bonnets quivering violently, and their ribbons streaming in the breeze.

Half an hour afterwards, Dan Horsey, who had been sent to me with a note
from my friend Stuart, went down into my kitchen, and finding Susan
Barepoles there alone, pu