er, I hardly know," continued Lucy.
"I think one does covet one's neighbour's house, in spite of the
tenth commandment, even though one does not want to steal it."

Mrs. Dosett repented herself that she had given rise to any
conversation at all. Silence, absolute silence, the old silence which
she had known for a dozen years before Lucy had come to her, would
have been better than this. She was very angry, more angry than she
had ever yet been with Lucy; and yet she was afraid to show her
anger. Was this the girl's gratitude for all that her uncle was doing
for her,--for shelter, food, comfort, for all that she had in the
world? Mrs. Dosett knew, though Lucy did not, of the little increased
pinchings which had been made necessary by the advent of another
inmate in the house; so many pounds of the meat in the week, and so
much bread, and so much tea and sugar! It had all been calculated.
In genteel houses such calculation must often be made. And when by
degrees,--degrees very quick,--the garments should become worn which
Lucy had brought with her, there must be something taken from the
tight-fitting income for that need. Arrangements had already been
made of which Lucy knew nothing, and already the two glasses of port
wine a day had been knocked off from poor Mr. Dosett's comforts. His
wife had sobbed in despair when he had said that it should be so. He
had declared gin and water to be as supporting as port wine, and the
thing had been done. Lucy inwardly had been disgusted by the gin and
water, knowing nothing of its history. Her father, who had not always
been punctual in paying his wine-merchant's bills, would not have
touched gin and water, would not have allowed it to contaminate his
table! Everything in Mr. Dosett's house was paid for weekly.

And now Lucy, who had been made welcome to all that the genteel house
could afford, who had been taken in as a child, had spoken of her
lot as one which was all sorrowful. Bad as it is,--this living in
Kingsbury Crescent,--I would rather bear it myself than subject Ayala
to such misery! It was thus that she had, in fact, spoken of her new
home when she had found it necessary to defend her feelings towards
her sister. It was impossible that her aunt should be altogether
silent under such treatment. "We have done the best for you that is
in our power, Lucy," she said, with a whole load of reproach in her
tone.

"Have I complained, aunt?"

"I thought you did."

"Oh, no! Y