ly, Lucy, of our fellow-creatures when they do wrong."
"Well, I shall try, mother—but I feel first, and afterward you make me think—what shall I do when I am away from you?"
Again our poor pilgrims retraced their way to the office, and received from the man, who seemed no way surprised at these repeated demands, three more references. One to Mrs. Louis, in Barclay-street, and that being nearest, thither Mrs. Lee went. Mrs. Louis's establishment indicated the wealth of the proprietor. A servant announced Mrs. Lee to her lady. "Do, Ellen," said Mrs. Louis, looking up from the "last new novel," and addressing her seamstress, "go down and speak to her—I can't be bothered."
Ellen returned with a most favourable report, to which her mistress, as she did not lift her eyes from her book, could have given but half an ear. When Ellen stopped talking, she said, "She'll do, no doubt, but I can't speak to her now—tell her to call again in an hour or two."
"She looks very tired, ma'am." Mrs. Louis neither heeded nor heard. "The child is a pretty child—and they have had a tedious long walk, Mrs. Louis—and if you would please to speak to them now?"
"Do, Ellen, hush!" said her mistress, looking up from the tale of fictitious distress that was drenching her face with tears. "If the woman is tired, tell her to call Monday."
"You engaged to go out early Monday morning, Mrs. Louis."
"How you interrupt me, Ellen! If I am out, can't she call again?"