his wages. Mrs. Peckover at that time kept a small beer-shop in Rosoman Street,—small and unpretending in appearance, but through it there ran a beery Pactolus. By selling the business shortly after her husband's death, Mrs. Peckover realised a handsome capital. She retired into private life, having a strong sense of personal dignity, and feeling it necessary to devote herself to the moral training of her only child.
At half-past eleven Mrs. Peckover was arrayed in her mourning robes,—new, dark-glistening. During her absence, Clem had kept guard over Mrs. Gully, whom it was very difficult indeed to restrain from the bottles and decanters; the elder lady coming to relieve, Clem could rush away and don her own solemn garments. The undertaker with his men arrived; the hearse and coaches drove up; the Close was in a state of excitement. "Now that's what I call a respectable turn out!" was the phrase passed from mouth to mouth in the crowd gathering near the door. Children in great numbers had ab-
