"FATHER won't be long now, and as he didn't get any work yesterday, he's sure to to-day. He allus does, I've noticed," and the speaker, a pretty little girl of ten, carefully dropped a few cinders on the fire as she spoke, that the room might look bright and cheerful for her father when he came in from his work at the docks.

"Are you very hungry, Letty?" asked a voice from the corner.

The girl sitting in the glow of the firelight turned towards the shadowed corner where her sister lay on a home-made couch of boxes and asked: "Will you want some more medicine, do you think?"

"I'm afraid so; I haven't had any for a week, and my back is getting bad again. But we won't say anything about it till we see how much father gets to-day. Mother is sure to get eighteen pence for her washing at Mrs. Rutter's, so she might be able to spare sixpence for a bottle of medicine if father got a day's work too."

"He wouldn't get a whole day—why, he hasn't had a whole day's work for a long time! But he might get a shilling or perhaps a little more, and then I should think you might have the medicine. I'll go and have a look up the street and see if he is coming, for I know you want your tea badly by this time. I had my dinner at the mission-hall, so I'm not so hungry as you are." And as she spoke she opened the door, letting out a glow of ruddy firelight that drew another girl to the doorway.

"How are you to-day, Winny?" she said thrusting her head in and looking round the room. "How jolly you always look in here!" she added surveying the little room, that did have an air of comfort about it in spite of its shabby furniture, which looked quite rich and luxurious in the glow of the firelight.

There was a carpet on the floor that still retained patches of crimson here and there. Winny's box couch, too, was covered with a patchwork of cretonne which looked bright and pretty; and there was an arm-chair covered in the same fashion on the other side of the fireplace, and a little round table in the middle of the room covered with a white cloth, on which was set out the tea-cups and a plate or two, but not an atom of food, because the last morsel was eaten at breakfast time, and until father or mother came home with the day's earnings, no tea could be had by the sisters.

Most eagerly did Letty peer into the darkness of the dreary little street. The wind blew cuttingly cold off the river, and although it was not much after five o'clock, it had been so dull and foggy all day that now in the March wind everybody had been glad to get indoors, and no one was to be seen moving about. Here and there lights twinkled in the windows of the houses; but many, like this home window of Letty's, only showed the red glow of a little cinder fire made ready for the festival of the day—tea, when the children were at least sure of half a meal if the father's earnings would not get them a whole one.

After looking up and down the street for either father or mother to appear, Letty went indoors and upstairs, for she was shivering, and the little stool by the fireside was more comfortable than the door-step.

"Was that Annie Brown went out just now?" she asked rather sharply as she came in.

"Yes. She just looked in as she went by," answered the voice in the corner.

"I wonder you talk to her, Winny, when you know they are all such a bad lot," said her sister shutting the door with a bang.

"Oh, Annie is not so bad when you come to know her. Her father works at the docks; gets more work, I think, than father does, and—"

"That may be, but still I know mother don't want me to go to play with her," said Letty speaking somewhat severely.

But her sister only smiled to herself in the shadow. Letty was like her mother, and prided herself on holding herself aloof from a good many—nay, most of their neighbours, for they had not always been so poor as they now were.

Chaplin had been a carpenter, but ill-health and bad times had thrown him out of work, and he had drifted from one thing to the other until at last he had been glad to get an occasional day's work at the docks as a day labourer, while his wife got a little charing at some of the larger houses close at hand.

In this way, a year or two had passed, during which, if they had sunk no lower, they had made no headway towards recovering their position. And during this time, the eldest girl, Winny, had gradually sunk into a state of ill-health that at first seemed likely to add to her father's despondency. But the girl herself developed a cheerfulness that made her a very fountain of hope and good cheer for others, although she seemed to have given up all thought of being any better herself.

No one seeing that pale patient face on the pillow of her couch would ever have dreamt what she was, not only to her own mother, father, and sister, but to all who lived in the house. When people came as new tenants, they would hear from one and the other of "little Winny Chaplin" before they had been in the house a week, and if anybody was in trouble, Winny was sure to know all about it. The little back room they occupied was in point of fact the heart of that house with its cluster of households, and so it was no uncommon thing for one and the other to open the door and exchange a word or two with the invalid, especially when her mother was out all day.

In this way she learned to know her neighbours as her mother never would; for there was something so winning about the girl, that people talking to her forgot sometimes that she was only a girl, and told her of troubles that they would have shrunk from imparting to older and wiser friends. Then, too, Winny always had time to listen to their stories, and the very telling them to such a sympathetic listener often lifted the load a little; and if Winny could do no more, she would whisper tenderly to her visitor: "God knows all about it, you know. I will ask him to help you."

Sometimes a curious smile would part the lips of the complainer when she said this, for however heavy the trouble under discussion might be, it rarely happened that it was so great as that affliction she herself was called upon to endure, and perhaps the visitor would add: "Do you think God knows about your own trouble?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure he does," Winny would reply with a bright look. "He is so good to me that—that—I hardly know how to be thankful enough. I wasn't just at first, you know," she would hasten to add. "I used to think that God ought to make me well quick, and let me go to Sunday-school again; and when he did not seem to hear, and I got weaker and weaker, I began to cry, until one day it all at once came over me like a great light that God had some work for me to do lying still on this couch. Then I thought how the Lord Jesus had been willing to come and live here—and it must have been a very horrid place for him to live in; but he came to do his Father's work and to save us, and so he did not mind. And when I thought of this, I felt so glad that I forgot the pain in my back for a long time. So, you see, God is helping me all the time, for he is always pouring just as much gladness into my heart as I can bear."

"But, Winny," the friends had said, "if God helps you as you say, why does not he make you well? Don't you think he could?"

"Oh, yes, of course; and I daresay it would be quite as easy for him to make me well as to give me so much gladness. But then it might not be so good for me, or for the people about here. Don't you see I'm doing God's work here? Only a little bit of course; but it is enough to make anyone feel glad to be able to do even a little bit for the dear Lord who gave all his life for us."

So it was not strange that Annie Brown should sometimes look in upon the invalid, although she did have the character of being a wild, bold girl.

Mrs. Chaplin, however, did not like her or her father, who often spent his money in drink when he earned a little more than usual. And so Letty was quite right in what she said; and her sister did not contradict her, but just smiled to herself in the shadow while Letty carefully dropped a few more cinders on the fire.

Before she had finished, the street door opened, and the next minute Winny exclaimed joyfully, "There's father at last, open the door quick!"

Letty needed no second bidding; she dropped the shovel she had in her hand and ran to the door of the room.

"You're late, father," she said by way of greeting, looking at him keenly to see by his face how much money his pocket was likely to contain.

The signs were not very favourable. Chaplin was looking sad and dispirited, and as he dropped into the arm-chair which Letty had drawn round to the fire, he said, "Only an hour's work—only fi'pence, my lasses."

Winny felt disappointed. She had made so sure her father would at least get two hours work and bring home tenpence to-night. She heaved a little sigh as she thought of the medicine that could not be bought now, and then conquering her own personal share of the disappointment, she said, "Get a loaf and a bit of dripping if you can, Letty; father is hungry I can see. We can make the old tea leaves do once more, and there is some sugar in the cupboard, I think."

Letty soon put on her hat, and taking up the little pile of halfpence which her father laid down on the table, she ran downstairs and out of the house.

Winny watched her father as he sat with his head drooped on his hand, looking too weary to talk. The girl knew the signs too well to speak to him just now. By and by, when he had had his tea, he would tell them about his day's work, and how many men were standing about outside the dock gates to-day—waiting for a chance to be called in.

Presently Letty came back with a rare treasure in her hand. As she came up the street from the chandler's shop, the wind brought a newspaper rustling and fluttering down from the main road at the other end. Letty picked it up and stood with it in her hand, thinking someone would come out of the darkness and claim it; but after standing for a minute or two peering into the gloom, and neither seeing or hearing anyone, she decided that she might take it home to her father.

"Look here, father, what I have found," she said holding out the paper.

"Ah! That'll be a treat," he said holding out his hand to take it. "Can we have a light, Winny?" he said rather wistfully, half fearing that even now, he might be balked of his reading.

Letty set the loaf and dripping down on the table, and went to a shelf in the corner and brought a lamp to the table.

"Oh, yes, there is some oil in it," said her sister as she held it up to look at it. "Mother told me last night when she put it out that there was a nice drop left in it."

Ninny was always the family remembrancer in these small household economies, for a lamp could not be burned wastefully, and so a careful record was kept as to how long a lamp had been burning. After a little discussion, it was decided that it would be best to have tea by firelight only, and light the lamp for father as soon as he had washed himself.

This was done down in the little back yard, and when it was over, the lamp was lighted, and he sat down to the perusal of his paper.

It was a rare treat for him to have a whole newspaper for his own reading, and he was soon deeply interested in what he read.

When his wife came in from her day's work, he could hardly wait for her to sit down before he began to talk about the things which had taken his attention in the paper.

"I say, mother, the House of Lords is having an inquiry into the sweating system," he said, speaking quite eagerly.

The poor woman was very tired, and did not feel much interest in what her husband was talking about, but she said with a little show of interest, "What do you mean, Tom?"

"Mean! Well, you'd know if you worked in the docks, where the foreman does nothing for his money but hunt us along, yelling, 'Shove up there, shove up!' And make twenty of us do the work of sixty, of course getting the other forty men's money for himself besides his own wages."

"Why, how's that managed, father?" asked Winny quickly.

While Mrs. Chaplin forgot her weariness as she said, "Tell us what you mean, Tom,—what this sweating is."

"Well, look here, this is how we men get served—for we have it at the docks as bad as anywhere. We'll say a ship comes in to-morrow morning, a tea ship perhaps. The labour-master goes and looks at her, and says to the foreman, 'You'll want sixty for that job.'

"'All right,' says Mr. Foreman, and at eight o'clock, he comes to the dock gates and picks out the strongest-looking chaps he can find among us-forty or fifty, perhaps. He takes 'em to the ship, and sets them to work till half-past ten. And then if they are fagged, and he don't think they'll be able to keep up the pace he wants them to work at, he pays them off for two hours' work, and then goes to the gates for another batch—sixty this time, most likely, because at eleven o'clock the labour-master will be round to see how they are getting on, and to see that the number of workers are all right.

"The foreman don't do much in the way of hard work himself; he has enough to do to look after his gang of labourers, for they'd shirk their work if they could—if they wasn't looked after. Treat a man like a dog and you'll only get dog's work out of him. The chap that knows he's just hired for a couple of hours, and will be put off the job then, ain't going to take the interest in his work that he ought. Mind, I ain't saying he ought not, for I know well enough that if a man puts heart into his work, it's a deal better than just brute strength only; and that's why so many of us grumble at the way things are managed at the docks. I tell you it's bad for foremen and labourers too, though the foremen don't mind so much, as they make money by it. See how Rutter has got on since he's been foreman," added Chaplin with some bitterness.

"But how is it they can manage it? I don't understand," interrupted Winny in an eager tone.

"Well, my girl, it's this way. The foreman is paid by contract. The ship comes in, and they find out how much cargo there is in the hold to be got out, and the labour-master can tell to an hour or so how long it will take sixty or twenty men to get it out, and he says this job will be so much, five or ten pounds as the case may be, and the foreman has to pay the labourers out of this contract price. Well, if he can make forty or fifty men do the work of fifty or sixty by keeping them at a breakneck pace all the time, and working men only for about an hour, or two hours while they are fresh, he makes so much more for himself, for, of course, the contract price is calculated as though he had to pay the sixty men, instead of the twenty he has made do the work. Now do you understand, my little woman?" added her father.

The words were not much in themselves, but the tone in which they were spoken made his wife look at him in a little surprise and alarm; for he was usually a silent man, at least about his work.

"You never told me this before," she said. "How is it you are so hot about it now?"

"It was hard work to keep from being hot before, but, don't you see, I might have said something about it and spoiled my chance of a job; but now everybody is talking the thing over, for we've had some chaps down at the dock gates, and they've found out that over and above what I've told you, the merchants and shippers pay eightpence an hour for our work, but we only get fivepence, and we've borne this sort of thing long enough."

His wife looked still more alarmed, for there was a ring of determination in her husband's tone, and she knew by past experience that the knitted brow and fierce look with which he banged the table indicated something unusual, and she was half afraid of what he might do next. But after looking at his wife for a minute, he turned to his paper again.

"They say here that it is a shame for poor tailors and nailmakers to be sweated. So if it is a shame for them, isn't it a shame for us?" he demanded.

"But look here, Tom. I've heard you say that dockers were just the poorest of all labourers; that you'd never stop at it if you could get back to your own trade." Mrs. Chaplin spoke in some perplexity, for she did not understand her husband being so moved about the low wages, for he had often said that there were so many more labourers than could find work, that they must expect wages to be low.

"That's true enough, but still I say that we could do with fewer foremen, or with an over-looker who should share our work and only have his fair share of the wages. Then, don't you see, I could earn sixpence where I only get fivepence now, and when the job was over, and things came to be totted up, I might get a penny or two more that goes into a man's pocket now who don't do the work. Don't you see this too, Martha, we should have the men steadier, and taking more pains with the work, for they would have an interest in it which they can't have now they are hunted like dogs. I begin to see from reading here about what has been going on in the House of Lords, that we ought to have things altered a bit as well as the tailors and chain-makers. The chap that comes round sometimes to the gates when we are waiting for a job has been telling us the same thing, but I only laughed at him, and so did the rest before. I shall tell 'em to-morrow, though, he's worth listening to; and it might be he could give us a hint how to get things altered."

"Things seem to get worse and worse," said his wife with a sigh. "I had a good bit extra washing to-day, and I thought for sure Mrs. Rutter would give me a penny or two more; but no, she just give me the bare eighteen pence, and I was afraid to say a word for fear she should tell me she could get somebody else to do the work for less money."

"That's just how it is with us poor dockers, and so there seems no help for us at all."

"Don't say that, Daddy," put in Winny quickly. "Who can tell but somebody may inquire into the docker's wages as well as the tailor's."

"If my head don't ache till that happens, it won't trouble me as it has done," said her father.

"It's the rent I'm thinking about," said Mrs. Chaplin, taking the two silver coins out of the corner of the handkerchief where they were tied and looking at them.

One shilling and sixpence was all they possessed in the world, and this was Thursday night. As sure as Monday came, the landlord would arrive at ten o'clock for the rent, and if the three shillings was not ready, they would be served with a notice to quit; and to be turned from this room would mean that they must sink a stage lower in the social scale. They would have to go where rents were less, and their comfort and respectability would be seriously impaired, and no one knew how much this was to Mrs. Chaplin.

That she had seen better days gave her a certain standing with her neighbours that was as precious as a patent of nobility to the wealthy, and to go to a street where this would count for little or nothing in the eyes of its rougher inhabitants, was more than the poor woman could contemplate calmly. She had buoyed herself up with the hope all day that her husband would make something like two shillings, then they could lay this aside and yet have sufficient to get what was necessary for the replenishing of the cupboard.

To her over-anxious mind, it seemed unfeeling that her husband could be interested in anything he might read in the newspaper, and forget the rent that must be provided somehow before next Monday.

That there could be any connection between the two, she quite failed to see in her narrower vision, and thinking over this as she looked at the shilling and sixpence on the table, she at length burst into tears, to Letty's great consternation.

"Mother, mother, don't cry!" exclaimed Winny, trying to stretch out her arms so as to be able to reach her. "Mother dear, you forget that God knows all about how bad things are just now, and can send us the rent ready for next Monday, though it is Thursday night and we haven't got much towards it."

"We haven't anything," sobbed the poor woman. "We shall want all this money for bread and tea and a bit of dinner to-morrow."

Winny was silent for a minute or two, but at last she said: "Letty might get some soup at the mission-hall for a penny a pint, and that would be cheaper than anything else for dinner."

"And I can get my dinner what I want at the food truck outside the dock gates for a penny," remarked her husband.

Poor Mrs. Chaplin winced. She had been thinking a good deal to-day of their past comfort and respectability, and to her it seemed like charity to take advantage of these cheap food depots, and her tears flowed afresh at the thought. Still, if the shilling was to be put away for the rent, it was the only thing they could do with the sixpence, for upon no other plan could they hope to get sufficient for them all to have two meals within twenty-four hours.

It was some comfort to her to think that there was something dropped into the rent-box that stood in the corner drawer, and so she wiped away her tears and began to prepare for going to bed.

This was an elaborate process, for the bed had to be let down out of what looked like a wardrobe cupboard during the day, but now disclosed bed-clothes, beds, and pillows, to say nothing of a long curtain that was rolled together at the top, and when let down formed a partition between the two beds, the girls' being made up at the other end of the room.

There was not much room to move about when the two beds were got into working order for the night, but then nobody wanted to do more than creep into bed.

When they were ready, Chaplin lifted Winny from her couch to the opposite side of the room and Letty helped her take off her clothes, and very soon three out of the four were sound asleep.

But for Winny there was very little rest that night. Her father had set her thinking in a fashion that was not pleasant. How could it be that poor men like her father should not be able to put, as he said, his heart into his work, and do it, as she knew God would have all work done, intelligently and heartily. This was certainly the way he would have all men work, and for things to be managed so that men could not or would not do this, was to degrade them to the level of beasts of burden, and certainly ought to be altered somehow.

Surely if these men who could earn so much more money than her poor father only knew how hard things were for them sometimes, they would be willing to make some change. For such ways of dealing with men as those which her father had spoken of were harsh and unrighteous, and God hated all unrighteousness, and had sent his Son to redeem men from it. Therefore it was only right that those who were committing the wrong should be told of it for love's sake, and not merely for the sake of the poor labourers.

It gave her something to think about and something to pray over. And very earnestly did the girl pray that night, that somehow God would show men what to do, so that this might be altered for the sake of the workers, and also for the sake of those who were so anxious that they might heap up riches and comforts for themselves at all costs.

How her prayer was to be answered Winny did not think, or even try to conjecture. God would show them that he could find out the way, and lead all his servants to judge righteously in this matter.

With this thought in her mind, she at last went to sleep, and did not wake until her father had gone out to look for work as usual.

[CHAPTER II.]

NEW WORK.

THE bell was ringing for school, and Letty hurrying down the last mouthful of bread and dripping before starting, when Winny opened her eyes the next morning.

"Just in time to say good-bye!" exclaimed Letty, running over to kiss her before starting for school.

"Is it so late as that, mother?" said the invalid, looking round the room as she raised herself on her elbow.

"Yes, deary; you did not sleep well in the night, I suppose? See what Annie Brown brought for you a little while ago." And as she spoke, Mrs. Chaplin held up a slice of toast. "Buttered toast," she explained; "and I've got a nice drop of tea for you in the pot. You shall have your breakfast before I dress you."

Buttered toast was a luxury that did not often find its way to the Chaplin's room, unless brought by a neighbour, and it was an unwritten law in the house that if one of them did have a little delicacy of any kind, Winny was to share it. But where every one was so poor and had such a hard struggle for daily bread, it was not often that such chances occurred, and Winny wondered as she munched her toast where Annie could have got it from.

Before the room was made tidy for the day, there came a knock at the door, and a tall slatternly girl put her head in the next moment.

"Can you sew some sacks for mother and get 'em done to-night?" asked a gruff voice, but the towsled head was nodded in a pleasant manner towards Winny, and she said, "I've heard about you though you don't know me."

"No, I don't think I do," said Mrs. Chaplin. "But I shall be glad to do the sacks," she added quickly, for this chance of earning a few pence was most providential.

"I told mother you'd do 'em. I'll bring 'em over directly." And with another nod towards Winny, the girl shut the door and ran downstairs.

"I wonder who she can be," said Winny. "She seemed to think she knew me, but I have never seen her before."

"No, I suppose not; but I have seen her going up and down the street with a pile of sacks on her head, so I suppose they do a lot of that work and they're pretty busy now."

Winny did all she could towards her own dressing in the thick long frock that her mother had made for her to wear in the day-time, and then she was settled on her little couch, where she could see to read or look out at the children playing in the back yard, while her mother put the bed away and was in readiness to begin upon the sacks when the girl brought them.

"You'll be sure to let us have them all done by ten o'clock to-night," she said when she dropped her bundle on the floor.

Mrs. Chaplin looked at the pile of coarse sacking, and wondered whether she could get through so much in the time. She had sewed sacks before, and knew that it was hard work, and could not be got through very quickly, and so she said: "What time have these got to go in?"

"Eight o'clock to-morrow morning," replied the girl, with her eyes still fixed upon Winny.

"Well, I'll promise this: all the sacks I can get done by eight o'clock to-night my husband shall bring over, and I will sit up and do the rest so that you shall have them by seven to-morrow. Will that do?" asked Mrs. Chaplin rather anxiously.

"From you it will," said the girl with a grin. And with another nod to Winny, she shut the door and ran downstairs.

A needle and string for sewing were sent with the sacks, and so Mrs. Chaplin sat down at once to her task.

"We shall get the rent now, mother, sha'n't we?" said Winny eagerly. "I was sure God would help us somehow," she added in a tone of glad triumph when her mother, after a careful calculation, thought she might put away another shilling towards it out of the sack sewing.

But she had not been at this long, when there came another tap at the door. But it was not pushed open until Mrs. Chaplin had called out "Come in!"

Then a sad, weary-looking girl about Winny's age, but well and comfortably dressed, timidly opened the door and stood for a minute looking round the room.

"It's Miss Rutter, Winny," said her mother by way of breaking the silence and introducing the girls.

"Mother wants you to come and clean up a bit for her," said the visitor with a wistful look at Winny.

"Dear me, now, isn't that tiresome!" exclaimed Mrs. Chaplin. "I never had a stroke of work all the week till yesterday, and didn't expect none to-day, so was glad enough of these sacks. What am I to do? It would pay me a deal better to come and do a day's work for your mother, but you see I have promised to get these sacks done."

"Oh, leave them," said the girl lightly. "I'll tell mother about it and she shall make it up to you."

"But the sacks are promised for to-night or to-morrow morning," interposed Winny. "Mother could not break her word about them. Could you, mother?" she added appealing to her.

Mrs. Chaplin looked dubious. The temptation to send the sacks back now this other work had come was a strong one, but glancing at Winny's anxious face, the mother felt half ashamed of the thought that had come to her, and with a sigh, she said: "Tell your mother I'm very sorry can't come to-day. If I'd only known it last night or an hour ago I'd have come, and been glad of it. But, you see, having promised these sacks, I can't disappoint the person or she may lose the work."

"But mother's so poorly, Mrs. Chaplin. Father's been going on again about the money we spend, and the rent people owe him, that—that—" and here the girl burst into tears. "Mother can't clean up the place, and father whitewashed the parlour last night, so that it's all in a dreadful mess."

Mrs. Chaplin looked at the girl pityingly. She knew what a hard man her father was, and that her mother, weak and delicate, was unable to do the rough work of the household and attend to the lodgers, so she said: "Couldn't you shut up the parlour for to-day, and I will be round first thing in the morning—be there as soon as your father has gone to the docks, and I'll have it all straight and get away before he comes home at dinner-time?"

"I'll go and ask mother if that will do and come back and let you know," said the girl, somewhat relieved by this suggestion.

"Does Mr. Rutter work at the docks?" asked Winny in some surprise.

"Yes; he's got a rare good place there," replied her mother with something like a sigh of envy. "He was made foreman five or six years ago, and they've a nice home and bought a lot of houses since."

"But it don't seem to have made Miss Rutter very happy," remarked Winny, recalling what her father had said, and her own thoughts during the night, upon the matter of dock foremen and how they grew rich.

"Well, I don't know that any of them have been much the happier for their money now I come to think of it. They used to live next door to us years ago, and Rutter wasn't a bad sort of man in his way then, but since he's begun to get on a bit, he seems to think of nothing but how he can make more money. When he ain't at work in the docks he's worrying over his books at home, and they say the men under him hate him, and if they can do him an ill turn, they never lose the chance of letting him see what they think about him."

"Why, mother, it's better to be poor than to be rich like that," said Winny quickly. "I'd rather be as we are than have everybody hating father, and—"

"Well, but Mr. Rutter ain't obliged to be so hard and disagreeable," interrupted her mother; "he wasn't always so."

"No; but, don't you see, he's got to love money better than anything else now. He used to think about neighbours and friends once in a friendly way, but he's got to think so much of his contracts and how much money he can make by them that he forgets everything else, and God won't let the man be happy or comfortable who thinks of nothing else but making money."

But Mrs. Chaplin shook her head dissentingly. "I don't know so much about that," she said. "It's a shame that the Rutters don't make themselves more comfortable, for they've got everything to do it with; and yet my heart aches sometimes for the poor thing, she seems to have got so afraid of her husband lately."

"And that poor girl, too—Lizzie isn't it? I had almost forgotten her, mother; she looks more like an old woman than a girl."

"Yes, she does. But I don't wonder you have forgotten her. The Rutters always did hold their heads very high, and when they moved into a bigger house, Mr. Rutter forbid them having anything to do with old friends. He wanted everybody to forget what he had been, and to set up for something better than a dock hand."

While she was talking, the needle was driven in and out of the stubborn sacking, for if the sacks were all to be finished in time, she must sit closely to her task.

When Letty came in, she went to get two pints of soup at the mission-hall in the neighbourhood, and by this means, Mrs. Chaplin and the girls could have a warm nourishing meal without loss of time, for this was a consideration to-day.

When dinner was over and the table cleared, Letty sat down to sew at one of the sacks. Winny would have liked to do the same, but it was impossible for her to attempt such heavy work. But if ever she was tempted to repine at her helpless condition, it was under such circumstances as these, when every stitch made some difference in the task, and yet she could do nothing to help.

"Mother, I could read to you this afternoon," she suddenly said, her face brightening at the thought. "I've got a book here Miss Lavender brought me last week."

"Haven't you read it?" asked her mother.

"Yes; but I shall enjoy reading it again to you, mother."

"Oh! I couldn't read a book over again that I had just finished," said Letty. "I should hate doing that."

"Not if you wanted to help mother," said her sister.

Letty shrugged her shoulders. "I like to read to myself best," she said; "and if you like, I'll take that book to be changed when I come home from school. Miss Lavender said she would change it for us to-day if you liked."

"Oh, but I sha'n't be done with it. I couldn't read it all to mother this afternoon," replied Winny.

"And I shall want you to get the tea, and do a bit more sewing at the sacks when you come home from school, Letty," said her mother.

"It hurts my fingers. I don't think I can do any more," replied Letty with a pout.

"It hurts mine too, but I am too glad to get the work to grumble about it, and you will have to learn to do the same, my girl."

Letty sighed. "Don't you wish we had a lot of money, Winny?" she said. "If father was a foreman, now."

"No! No! I don't want father to be a foreman," hastily interrupted her sister. "What we've got to wish and pray for is that things may be altered, that the men may be able to do their work as father says they ought—taking an interest in it, so as to do it carefully and well. And that the foremen may not merely think of making them work as hard as possible for as little as possible, just as though they were horses and not men at all. The foremen might not make so much money then, but they will be happier and better with a little."

"I hope it will be a little more than father has, then," interrupted Letty with a shrug of the shoulders. For the idea of people not being happy when they have plenty to eat, warm clothes to wear, and no rent to worry about, was something too wonderful for her to comprehend. "Do you think we should be better as we are, mother?" she asked incredulously.

"But, don't you see, Letty, that if things were altered the way father was talking about last night, it would be better for us, and we should be a little better off, and father would be able to do his work better too. It would be fairer altogether, for now as it is, the foremen complain of the labourers and they complain of the foremen, and nobody is satisfied. Of course God could not let people be happy and content if they got their money unfairly, as it seems to me some do now, and I am sure He will have it altered somehow, now that men have begun to think how wrong it is. Nobody thought much about it till lately, but now He has begun to speak to men's hearts about it, He will soon teach them how to make things better. Of course if this could be done, I should be glad enough for father to be made a foreman, for then he would have regular wages, and then we might have a front room to live in, and I could look out of the window sometimes."

Mrs. Chaplin sighed. "We would have a front room if father could only earn a shilling or two more a week," she said looking at the white face before her, and thinking what a long time it was since she had seen anything beyond those four walls. Little wonder was it that she longed for their removal to a front room, where a peep into the street might be had sometimes to break the monotony of her life.

If Winny had any such longing herself, she carefully put it aside, lest it should be a source of trouble to her mother. And for that afternoon at least, they were as happy as though they possessed as good an income as the Rutters. For Winny read the story-book lent her by her teacher, and in this second perusal, enjoyed it almost more than the first time, for she had her mother's sympathy in her pleasure, and the afternoon passed all too quickly for both of them.

If only the sacks were nearer completion, Mrs. Chaplin would have felt almost merry, so much had her heart been lightened by the reading and talk she had had with Winny.

But the exertion had been almost too much for the poor girl; her strength was not equal to such a long spell of reading, although she had been almost unaware of her weakness until Letty came in, and it grew too dark for her to read any longer. Then she fell back on her pillow, feeling as though she would like to slip out of the body that was so full of aches and pains, and leave it there like a worn-out garment for which she had no further use.

But when her father came in, and she saw his sad eyes turned eagerly towards her corner, she knew that for him it would be very bitter to miss meeting her smile when he came home from work, and so she put away the wish as something not to be thought of just now.

By and by, perhaps, when somebody had found out a way of helping dockers and foremen both, she could better be spared, but not just now. So, conquering her faintness, she said in a cheerful tone: "See how busy mother is; we shall have the rent ready now, father."

"Sacks!" remarked Chaplin in a little surprise, looking down at the heap he had almost stumbled over.

"It's hard work, but I was glad enough to get it this morning," said his wife, looking up inquiringly at her husband. She was afraid to ask what he had earned that day, for she could see by the despairing look in his eyes that he had very little, and to-morrow was Saturday too, when there would be less chance of getting a job.

So she put aside her own fears and anxieties, and said in a cheerful tone, "I must get these in by seven o'clock to-morrow, and then go to Mrs. Rutter's for half a day's work."

The man looked at the work in his wife's hand. "Couldn't I do a bit of that for you so as to give you a rest?" he said a little wistfully.

"I've been wishing I could help mother," said Winny, smiling at the thought of her father using a needle, while Letty burst out laughing at the suggestion.

"Oh! You may laugh," he said, feeling greatly relieved to hear of this influx of work. "I mean to let you see what I can do after tea. Put it down, mother, and give us some tea, and then Letty and I will try sack sewing. Never fear but what we will got them done between us."

During tea, he told of his day's experience, which did not vary much from that of the day before, except that the hour's work he had got had prevented him from reaching another place in time to get a longer spell of work, as he might have done if he had gone there first. This was another grievance that the men had to complain of, and one that a little forethought and management might prevent.

"Perhaps these things may all be set right one day, father," said Winny. "And when they are, mother says we shall have a front room, so that I can look out into the street sometimes."

"We'll have two rooms," announced Chaplin; "and I'm not so sure but what we may try to get things put right a bit. The chap that comes talking to us at the gates of a morning says it could be done easy enough if we'd only just make up our minds to hold together. Two days I've been tramping and working for just tenpence!" And as he spoke, he took the halfpence he had earned out of his pocket, and laid it on the table as though he was half ashamed of it.

"Father, don't you think that, now God has put it into people's hearts to think about this, and to say it ought to be altered, it will be somehow?" asked Winny earnestly.

Chaplin scratched his head. He believed in God, of course; he went to the mission services sometimes with his wife, but he never thought of God as being close at hand and directing the affairs of men as Winny did, and so he looked rather uncomfortably into the fire now he was asked to give an answer to such a direct question.

"I don't think they consider those things much down at the docks," he said slowly.

"Perhaps not, but that would not hinder God from working. Don't you see, somebody might be praying about it, and thoughts might be put into different people's minds about the same thing; and then, if a great many people said it must be altered—well, if they don't think about such things down at the docks, they would still have to do as God was telling them, because the people would make them."

"Bravo, Winny!" said her father. "That's just it, my lass. So you have been praying to God about this thing, have you? Well, well, keep on, and who knows what may come of it? The chap that comes to talk to us about standing shoulder to shoulder don't say nothing about God putting the idea into his heart, but that ain't to say that it isn't so, for God works in more hearts maybe than we think for; but about all of us thinking alike about this, why, that's just what he says must be done before we can make any stir in matter."

"Will there have to be a stir?" asked his wife timidly.

"Aye! That there will, my lass, and a mighty stir too before we get all we want. But, as our Winny says, the first thing is to get the men to think alike about what they want."

"But there won't be a strike?" said poor Mrs. Chaplin with a shiver. She knew by bitter experience what a strike meant, what hunger and cold, what a giving up of treasured household goods, and the desolate homes that it left behind.

"We won't have no strike if we can help it. What we must do is to make up our minds to stand shoulder to shoulder, and when the dock companies see that, why, of course, they will hear our complaints, and make some alterations."

"But suppose they shouldn't?" said his wife.

Chaplin could see the dread in her face, and hastened to allay her fears. "We won't strike till we're compelled," he said. "Our Winny won't forget to tell God all about it; and, look here, mother, if the worst comes to the worst, why, don't you see that God will know we're just doing it for bare life, and he'll take care of us?"

"Yes! Yes! Father, that he will," said Winny. "And then we shall be able to get a front room and live happy ever afterwards."

Such a prospect as a front room, or better still, two rooms to live in, was worth any struggle, and looking at his Winny as he awkwardly pushed the needle in and out, Chaplin determined to give his name in the next day as one who would join in the demand that was to be made for better terms for the labourers.

[CHAPTER III.]

THE NEIGHBOURS.

"LOOK here, Maria, we shall have to move out of this place, I can see; I don't mean to put up with the fellows grumbling any longer. Last night one of them threatened to break my windows if I didn't give up my work at the docks, as if it was my fault that the men had to work on contract. They've been at it for a month now."

Mrs. Rutter sighed. "I wish you had never been made a foreman," she said in a tone of desperation. "We was ever so much happier when you was just a workman with about half the wages."

"What do you mean?" demanded her husband fiercely.

"Why, that money don't always bring happiness," replied his wife evasively, looking half afraid of what she had said.

"What have you got to complain of?" he said. "Don't you have plenty to eat and drink? Ain't you got the best furnished house in the street? Ain't we better off than anybody in the neighbourhood? I've just bought another house, one where there's some good steady tenants, and where the rents ain't so high but they'll bear raising a bit."

"You never was so anxious to make money when you just had—"

"There, go into the kitchen and cry there," commanded her husband. "Only don't keep the fire burning in waste."

The poor woman went out sobbing. In spite of the house being the best furnished in the street, she was constantly being told that to have a fire these chilly evenings was waste, although it had been the custom to have one until her husband had begun to grow rich, when he had declared that such indulgence was a wilful waste.

She sat down by the few embers of the dying fire and shivered. Presently her husband went out, and she heard angry voices outside. Doubtless it was some of the tenants come to beg for further time to pay the rent, for these were constantly coming on such errands.

Just now, however, it, seemed as though they were rather noisy over it, and stones rattled against the window shutters. To her relief, the latch key was heard turning in the lock the next minute, and her husband came in. He was not a coward, but he looked white and frightened as he came into the kitchen.

"Why! What is the matter?" she asked, looking even paler than her husband.

"Oh, some of the men out there are about as foolish as you are," he said uneasily. "They actually want me to try and alter the plan upon which the work is done in the docks, as if I could do anything in it."

"But I've heard you say it wasn't a fair way of doing things," put in his wife.

"But suppose it isn't, can I alter it do you think?" he demanded, turning angrily upon her.

It was always so now. Whatever put him out of temper, he always visited it upon her, and so now, as he could not go out because of the angry crowd in the street, he vented his anger upon her, while she sat and bore it meekly but tearfully, silently wishing they were as poor now as when her husband worked in the docks, and never dreamed of being the possessor of more than a pound a week in the way of income. They had been happy and content then, and her husband could afford time to go with her to the mission service sometimes.

But all this had altered when he was made a foreman and began to buy houses of his own. Then the mission service was not good enough for them, he said, they ought to go to a church where they knew nobody, but might be thought people of importance—not that he went himself, for Sunday had to be given up to looking over accounts, and calculations about rents and repairs, and how a shilling could be put on here and there to make his houses more profitable.

The poor woman sighed as she thought of it all, while her husband grumbled on and the crowd outside seemed to grow more violent. It became plain at last that Rutter would not be able to go out again that night, and so he took off his boots and sat down in the dreary little kitchen to eat his supper of bread and cheese.

The crowd outside waited and raged on against the foreman, but finding at last that he did not mean to come out again that night they at length dispersed.

"We must get away from here to-morrow," said Rutter when they went upstairs. "I've bought a house a little way out, and we'll get into it at once. I shall send to say I am ill and can't go to work in the morning, and we'll be away before those fellows get back at night."

"But the woman's coming to wash in the morning," said Mrs. Rutter in some dismay, for she did not like being taken from all her friends.

"If the woman's coming, she can help you pack up. But you need not let her know where we are going, for these rough fellows are not easy to manage when they are in a rage, and I don't want them to find out where I am going."

So when Mrs. Chaplin came the next morning, she heard to her dismay that her work for the future would be lessened, for it was scarcely likely that she would be able to get another day's washing in the neighbourhood.

Another thing, she had known Mrs. Rutter a long time. They used to be friends when they first came to the neighbourhood. She had felt inclined to envy her friend's good fortune when the improvement in their circumstances first took place, but she soon began to see that somehow riches did not bring happiness or content to the Rutters, and she often pitied the poor woman more now than when they were both struggling to make ends meet, as they did sometimes in those old days.

Since then they had been getting steadily poorer and the Rutters richer, but the more anxious and unhappy as it seemed to Mrs. Chaplin. She helped with the packing all day and saw the furniture put into the van, but as Mrs. Rutter was not allowed to know where they were going, she could not tell her friend, much as she might wish to do so.

When she got home, another piece of news awaited her.

Annie Brown, who insisted upon coming in to see Winny sometimes, burst into the room just after she got back, exclaiming: "I say Mrs. Chaplin, Rutter has bought this house and is going to raise all the rents!"

"Nonsense!" replied Mrs. Chaplin. "I should have heard about that, if it had been true, for I have been working there to-day."

She would not say a word about the moving, for fear Annie should find out which way they had gone and follow them. She would be quite capable of doing this, and telling those who had made the disturbance last night that they might repeat it.

"You'll find out that what I say is true enough; and what we shall do, I don't know, for father's foot is bad, and there's nobody but me to earn a penny now."

The girl worked at a match factory near, and though the work was regular, the wages were small, and only sufficient for her own maintenance, so that it was impossible for them to make up the rent until her father was able to go to work again. This matter was discussed by the Chaplins after she had gone, for they felt very sorry for her.

"I wish she went to Sunday-school," said Winny, "for I can't help liking her though she is rough and rude sometimes."

"She never did go to Sunday-school," put in Letty with her mouth full of bread and treacle, for they were late with the tea again, and she was very hungry.

"I believe if I could only go again, I could get Annie to go with me. I was telling her the other day how kind my teacher was in bringing me books to read and coming to see me nearly every week, and I could see she wished somebody cared for her like that. But, you see, she lost her mother when she was a little girl, and her father never troubled about sending her to Sunday-school, for they used to clean the place up on a Sunday, and so she has never learned any better, poor girl."

"You'll miss the Rutters, mother," remarked Chaplin rousing himself after a long silence.

"Yes, that I shall," she replied with a sigh "I've known them so long—ever since we first came to live here. Why, the children used to go together to the Sunday-school, before they got on in the world and took to going so far away to church."

"Did we, mother? I don't remember!" exclaimed Letty in some surprise.

"No, I suppose not, and they don't want it remembered, I daresay. For it has changed them getting on in the world, and I don't believe Mrs. Rutter cared to have me think that she used to live next door to me at one time, and that I've helped her to the price of a loaf to get tea before Rutter came home. Ah! They were happier days for both of us, I believe, in spite of the houses they own and the good wages he makes."

Chaplin did not seem inclined to talk to-night, and so he took no notice of what was said, but sat with his head in his hand and his elbow on the table, evidently pondering deeply over some matter that engaged his attention.

"I don't know that the chaps are quite fair to Rutter," he said after a long silence, during which Mrs. Chaplin had been putting the tea things away.

"What do you mean?" asked his wife, looking round from the cupboard in her surprise.

"Well, about the way he makes his money. The fellows grumble and carry on, and threaten this and that, but what wants altering is the method on which we are paid. Labourers and foremen alike."

Mrs. Chaplin frowned. "I wish you'd leave all that sort of thing alone," she said.

Poor woman! She had such a horror of strikes, and for underpaid labourers to think of doing anything beyond a little occasional grumbling filled her with dismay.

But Winny always had a word ready for any little family hitch of the kind. "Don't you think we might leave the matter in God's hands, mother?" she said.

"Yes, yes, my dear, that is what I want your father to do," said Mrs. Chaplin a little impatiently.

"But, you see, mother," began Chaplin.

And then there came a tap at the door, and Annie Brown put her head in again. "Father's foot seems worse to-night," she said in an anxious tone. "I wish you would come and look at it, Mrs. Chaplin."

"You'd better go, mother," said Chaplin glancing at his wife. He knew that she did not care much about the Browns. They were not nice people to know, certainly, but Annie had taken a great liking for his poor Winny, and that fact went far to reconcile Chaplin to being neighbourly and civil to them, and that was why he urged his wife to go and see the man's injured foot.

Being thus urged, she had no excuse for holding back, and so determined to make the best of matters. She found her neighbour's room much more clean and tidy than she expected, considering how Annie had been brought up. Brown himself was a rough blustering fellow, much given to swearing in an ordinary way; but he looked as sheepish as a schoolboy now, for he had a vague notion that the Chaplins were "stuck up" though they were so poor. But he was ruled by his daughter Annie, much as Chaplin was by his Winny, and as she said Mrs. Chaplin must see his foot, he had submitted.

"It's very good of you to come and look at a cove like me," he said when Mrs. Chaplin wished him "good-evening." And the meek way he spoke almost made his visitor laugh, and dispelled all her fear of the man.

"You hurt your foot in the docks, I suppose?" she said, not knowing what else she ought to say.

It was perhaps about the worst question she could have put, for he broke into a torrent of oaths, blaming the foreman for being in such a hurry and so causing the accident. It was not Rutter, but another man something like him, and Brown was very bitter about the whole matter.

"Hush, father, hush!" interposed Annie. "I told you to mind how you behaved, didn't I? Don't mind him, Mrs. Chaplin, his bark is a deal worse than his bite," she added turning to her visitor.

Mrs. Chaplin half wished she had not come, but Annie was so anxious for her to see the injured foot, that she could not go back without looking at it.

"Dear me! What have you been doing to it?" she said when the rag was removed and she saw the inflamed state it was in.

"Ointment," said Annie laconically.

"I don't think it can suit it, then," said Mrs. Chaplin. "Go down and tell Letty to give you all the warm water there is in the kettle. It must be well washed and bathed before we can do anything else to it. What a pity you did not go to the hospital and have it dressed," said Mrs. Chaplin when Annie had gone down for the water. "It would have been almost well by this time if you had done that."

"And what was to become of the little un while I was there?" he demanded almost angrily.

"The little one!" repeated Mrs. Chaplin in some amazement.

"Aye, my Annie I mean. What would become of her if I wasn't here to take care of her?"

Annie had used the same words in reference to her father when she had been asked to go to Sunday-school on Sunday afternoons.

"Who would take care of daddy if I went away and left him by himself?" she had asked when Winny had suggested that there was a class for big girls at the mission Sunday-school.

Mrs. Chaplin smiled at the idea of the rough noisy Annie not being able to take care of herself, but as it seemed to be the rooted idea that neither could do without the other, she did not try to disturb it.

When the hot water was brought she carefully washed the foot, Annie looking on.

"I'll know what to do next time," she said, when the foot being thoroughly cleansed, Mrs. Chaplin bound up the wounds in clean wet rags, telling Annie to take care that they were kept wet, and then in a day or two, he would be able to put his shoe on again.

"How much longer am I to be kept in here?" demanded Brown impatiently.

For answer, his daughter gave him a playful box on the ears.

"Take that," she said. "Have you forgotten what I told you about little Winny downstairs, the prettiest girl in the street, and she ain't been out of that back room for nearly a year now; has she, Mrs. Chaplin?"

"It's a year come June since my Winny went outside the door," said her mother with a touch of pride and tenderness in her tone. "But she hopes to go out again and see the green fields and the country this summer. Miss Lavender, her teacher, has promised to get her a ticket for some home, that she may go for a fortnight."

"Oh! I say, that will be fine for her, wont it?" exclaimed the match girl. "I went to Greenwich Park one Easter Monday, and the trees and the grass was fine, I tell you. Yes, Winny will like that."

As Mrs. Chaplin left the room, Annie followed her, and went a little way across the landing. "I want to ask you just one other thing. They've brought you a lot more sacks to sew, or they will bring 'em presently, and I want you to let my daddy come in when Winny reads to you while you're sewing 'em."

"How do you know I shall have sacks to sew to-morrow?" Mrs. Chaplin asked in some surprise.

She had wondered how it was she had got so much of this work lately, and that Annie knew she was likely to get more, was still more surprising.

"Perhaps I dreamt it," laughed the girl; "but if my dream comes true, and you have some sacks to sew to-morrow, you'll let daddy come and listen to Winny reading, won't you?"

"Yes, he may come," said Mrs. Chaplin a little dubiously, for it was against all her rules of life to be on friendly terms with people like the Browns, and she wondered what was to come of such an innovation.

Soon after she got back to her own room, a bundle of sacks was brought for her to make, and she felt sure then that Annie Brown had some hand in getting this work for her, for the girl said as she put the bundle down, "Annie told mother she was pretty sure you could do them, and that we might take your word that you would if you promised."

"Well, I shall be very glad of the work, as it happens, for some people have moved away to-day that I used to wash for, and so I am thankful for anything that comes in my way."

"All right! You shall have all we can spare," said the girl as she shut the door.

Sack-making was hard work, and ill paid too, as most women's work is, but still Mrs. Chaplin was very glad of it, more especially as it was work she could do at home, and so be able to keep Winny company, for it was very dull for her when her mother had to go out to work, for then she was left alone for the greater part of the day.

Once a week, her Sunday-school teacher came to spend an hour with her, and she generally contrived that it should be when Winny was likely to be alone. But even with this break, if the girl felt unusually ill, as she often did on these days, the time passed very slowly, although she always contrived to meet every one who came in with a cheerful smile of welcome.

Miss Lavender, who knew the girl most intimately, was anxious that she should go into the hospital, but mother and father and Winny herself opposed the plan, and the doctor who came to see her sometimes did not recommend it very strongly. The little home was a happy one in spite of its poverty, and he doubted whether more could be done for her in one of the great London hospitals than was being done here. If she could go away with her mother and father to some country cottage home, it would be a different thing; then she might have a chance of getting over her weakness. But as this seemed quite out of the question, Miss Lavender had set her heart upon trying the next best thing—sending her to a country cottage home for a fortnight.

Not that either she or her teacher would ever admit that she was hardly used in being shut out of so many of the pleasures of life.

"God is fair and just to all," the lady would say when some of her class, who had known Winny when she was able to run about, bemoaned her fate as being a very cruel one. "It may seem cruel to us, I admit," said the lady, "but you know things are not always what they seem. If God has taken Winny from the enjoyment of some things we think it impossible to live without, you must remember we are not called to do without them. We know what these are to us; but we cannot know the secret pleasures God gives to Winny, nor the opportunities of usefulness that comes in her way. I happen to know that, by her patience and her firm belief in what I have just said to you, Winny is exercising an influence on her friends and neighbours that makes her life one of the most useful as well as the most happy, for she is quite sure that she is doing God's will as she lies there on her couch, and what higher life can anyone desire? Our Winny is one of the happiest girls I know," concluded the lady.

"She always seems happy," said one.

"Oh! It isn't seeming; her happiness is real and true and deep in spite of the pain she often suffers, and that she never goes outside that one room. I want you to believe this, and so does she."

It is not easy, perhaps, for girls who had all the vivacity of girlhood in them to believe that one, wholly shut out from the pleasures they could enjoy, could yet be happy. But Miss Lavender, while telling them that they ought to show every kindness in their power to their afflicted schoolfellow, said they might yet believe that in her case at least, there were such compensations—that she could yet be happy, though she knew nothing now of the fun and frolic that interested them.

"These things are good for you, dear," she said to a little girl who spoke of giving up play; "that would not be natural, and therefore not good for you. If God was to lay you aside for quiet work for him, he would give you pleasures you knew nothing of now; but not if you willfully set aside the natural order of things, and refuse what he sees to be good for you."

"Was it good for Winny, then, to be ill?" asked one.

"Yes, dear, it must have been. He had some work for Winny to do that nobody could do so well, and this being so, he gives her pleasures that we know nothing of. It is always so, if people would only believe it and in God's fairness to all his children. But instead of this, we worry and fume, and think if we were only in other circumstances, we should be happier and more useful."

By such talks as these, Winny became the best known girl in the class, although she had not left the little back room for more than a year.

[CHAPTER IV.]

WHAT PASSION DID.

BROWN came to the Chaplin's room the next day in obedience to his daughter's commands, but looking as sheepish as a schoolboy as he came in.

Winny, however, only thought of amusing and interesting her strange guest, and the book she had to read was just the one she thought would be likely to please him. And so with a pleasant nod, she said: "I am glad you have come, Mr. Brown, for I have got a book of travels this week, and you will be sure to like that."

Mrs. Chaplin asked after his foot, and heard that Annie had faithfully carried out her directions and that it was much easier to-day.

The big burly fellow looked in a half shy fashion at the frail little invalid as he took his seat in the arm-chair. But there was no more talking for the next hour, for Winny began reading, and Brown sat and listened in open-eyed wonder at the marvels told of in the book. Never had an afternoon passed so quickly, and when Letty pushed the door open and put her head inside, no one could believe that school was really over, but thought she must have come home before the proper time.

Brown went to his own room then, thanking Winny so gratefully for her reading, that she invited him to come again the next day if he liked.

Annie came in soon after tea to thank her as well; she had her hat on and was just going out. "What a worry rent is!" she whispered as she passed Mrs. Chaplin.

They did not ask where she was going, and thought no more of the matter at that time, and a fortnight passed without anything occurring out of the usual way.

Mrs. Chaplin got more sack-making, and Brown came occasionally to listen to Winny reading. For although his foot was better, he was not able to go to work, and the neighbours knew that Annie had been compelled to carry a good many things to the pawnshop to get bread, and that the rent had not been paid, for they heard Rutter's agent threaten at last to turn them out, if the rent was not taken to him in the course of the evening.

Brown told Annie of this when she came home from work, suggesting that they had better look out for another place at once.

"What! When we are so comfortable here, and you can go and hear Winny read! No, I'll go and tell Rutter that you'll be at work again next week, and if he'll wait for the rent, we'll pay him all up in a month."

She swallowed her tea as fast as she could, and as they could not afford to burn a lamp now, she told her father to go and see the Chaplins if it got dark before she came back.

"For I may have to wait for him, you know, but I will see him this time."

She had found out where the Rutters had gone to live, and was not long walking the two miles that lay between, so that she got to her destination early in the evening, and was shown into the little back parlour where Rutter sat smoking.

"What do you want?" he said taking the pipe from his mouth as Annie went in.

He did not recognize her, and thought she might have come about a house of his that was empty.

The seed she sowed

The Seed She Sowed

[CHAPTER I.]

[CHAPTER II.]

[CHAPTER III.]

[CHAPTER IV.]