are charged to you, and shall come out of your portion—not a cent of them will I ever pay."
This did not seem to be a very propitious moment for Jane's communication, but she dreaded it so much, that she felt impatient to have it off her mind, and laying down her work, she was fearfully beginning, when she was interrupted by a gentle tap at the door. A mean looking woman entered, who bore the marks of poverty, and sorrow, and sickness. She had a pale, half-starved infant in her arms, and two other little ragged children with her, that she had very considerately left at the outer door. She curtsied very humbly to the lady of the house, 'hoped no offence,' she had a little business with Miss Wilson—she believed Miss Wilson had forgotten her, it was no wonder—she did not blame her, sickness and trouble made great changes. Mrs. Wilson either did not, or affected not to recognise her. She was aware that old acquaintance might create a claim upon her charity, and she did not seem well pleased when Jane, who sat near, pushed a chair forward for the poor woman, into which she sunk, as it appeared from utter inability to stand.
"Who do you say you are?" said Mrs. Wilson, after embarrassing the woman by an unfeeling stare.
"I did not say, ma'am, for I thought, may be, when you looked at me so severe, you would know me."
"Let me take your baby, while you rest a little," said Jane.
