ust buy him--" began Mrs. Warden, intending to say, "a
wheel-chair." But it occurred to her that she had better buy it herself.
It is not wise to let poor people get too much money into their hands.
But she would give the woman something at once. Here was real need, a
genuine case for help; and she felt in her pocket for her purse.

It was not there. How annoying--she must have left it in the carriage.

Just as she was turning to the woman to express her regret, and promise
to send some money presently, the door opened, and a well-dressed
gentleman entered. His face was very full, and of a sort of dry, mealy
pallor.

"Mrs. Warden, I presume?" said the stranger. "I saw your carriage out in
the street, and I have brought you this--your purse, is it not?"

Mrs. Warden looked at it--yes, certainly, it was hers, with E. W. inlaid
in black on the polished ivory.

"I happened to see it, as I turned the corner, in the hands of a
girl--one of the most disreputable in the quarter," the stranger
explained; adding, "I am the poor-law inspector of the district."

Mrs. Warden thanked him, although she did not at all like his
appearance. But when she again looked round the room she was quite
alarmed by the change which had taken place in its occupants.

The husband sat upright in the bed and glared at the fat gentleman,
the wife's face wore an ugly smile, and even the poor wee cripple had
scrambled towards the door, and resting on his lean arms, stared upward
like a little animal.

And in all these eyes there was the same hate, the same aggressive
defiance. Mrs. Warden felt as though she were now separated by an
immense interval from the poor woman with whom she had just been talking
so openly and confidentially.

"So that's the state you're in to-day, Martin," said the gentleman,
in quite a different voice. "I thought you'd been in that affair last
night. Never mind, they're coming for you this afternoon. It'll be a two
months' business."

All of a sudden the torrent was let loose. The man and woman shouted
each other down, the girl behind the stove came forward and joined in,
the cripple shrieked and rolled about. It was impossible to distinguish
the words; but what between voices, eyes, and hands, it seemed as
though the stuffy little room must fly asunder with all the wild passion
exploding in it.

Mrs. Warden turned pale and rose, the gentleman opened the door, and
both hastened out. As she passed down the passage sh