ed Pennyloaf.

'Of course I do. And let me catch you disobeying me! I should think you
might find better friends than a girl as used to be the Peckovers'
dirty little servant.'

Bob turned up his nose and sniffed the air. And Pennyloaf, in spite of
the keenest distress, actually felt that there was something in the
objection, thus framed! She herself had never been a servant--never;
she had never sunk below working with the needle for sixteen hours a
day for a payment of ninepence. The work-girl regards a domestic slave
as very distinctly her inferior.

'But that's a long while ago,' she ventured to urge, after reflection.

'That makes no difference. Do as I tell you, and don't argue.'

It was not often that visitors sought Bob at his home of an evening,
but whilst this dialogue was still going on an acquaintance made his
arrival known by a knock at the door. It was a lank and hungry
individual, grimy of face and hands, his clothing such as in the
country would serve well for a scarecrow. Who could have recognised in
him the once spruce and spirited Mr. Jack Bartley, distinguished by his
chimney-pot hat at the Crystal Palace on Bob's wedding-day? At the
close of that same day, as you remember, he and Bob engaged in terrific
combat, the outcome of earlier rivalry for the favour of Clem Peckover.
Notwithstanding that memory, the two were now on very friendly terms.
You have heard from Clem's lips that Jack Bartley, failing to win
herself, ended by espousing Miss Susan Jollop; also what was the result
of that alliance. Mr. Bartley was an unhappy man. His wife had a
ferocious temper, was reckless with money, and now drank steadily; the
consequence was, that Jack had lost all regular employment, and only
earned occasional pence in the most various ways. Broken in spirit, he
himself first made advances to his companion of former days, and Bob,
flattered by the other's humility, encouraged him as a
hanger-on.--Really, we shall soon be coming to a conclusion that the
differences between the nether and the upper world are purely
superficial.

Whenever Jack came to spend an hour with Mr. and Mrs. Hewett, he was
sure sooner or later to indulge the misery that preyed upon him and
give way to sheer weeping. He did so this evening, almost as soon as he
entered.

'I ain't had a mouthful past my lips since last night, I ain't!' he
sobbed. 'It's 'ard on a feller as used to have his meals regular. I'll
murder Suke yet, see if I