d the steep ladder into the maze of
busy streets, to buy the articles necessary for her little household,
and that she had steadily refused all aid from her neighbours, who soon
left off pressing it upon her. The only nurse she had, and the only
person to whom she would entrust her errands, was her eldest child, a
small, spare, stunted girl of London growth, whose age could not be
more than ten years, though she wore the shrewd, anxious air of a woman
upon her face, with deep lines wrinkling her forehead and puckering
about her keen eyes. Her small bony hands were hard with work; and
when she trod to and fro about the crowded room, from the bedside to
the fireplace, or from the crazy window to the creaking door, which let
the cold draughts blow in upon the ailing mother, her step was slow and
silent, less like that of a child than of a woman who was already weary
with much labour. The room itself was not large enough to cause a
great deal of work; but little Meg had had many nights of watching
lately, and her eyes were heavy for want of sleep, with the dark
circles underneath them growing darker every day.

The evening had drawn in, but Meg's mother, her head propped up with
anything that could be made into a pillow, had watched the last glow of
the light behind the chimneys and the church spires, and then she
turned herself feebly towards the glimmer of a handful of coals burning
in the grate, beside which her little daughter was undressing a baby
twelve months old, and hushing it to sleep in her arms. Another child
had been put to bed already, upon a rude mattress in a corner of the
room, where she could not see him; but she watched Meg intently, with a
strange light in her dim eyes. When the baby was asleep at last, and
laid down on the mattress upon the floor, the girl went softly back to
the fire, and stood for a minute or two looking thoughtfully at the red
embers.

'Little Meg!' said her mother, in a low, yet shrill voice.

Meg stole across with a quiet step to the bedside, and fastened her
eyes earnestly upon her mother's face.

'Do you know I'm going to die soon?' asked the mother.

'Yes,' said Meg, and said no more.

'Father'll be home soon,' continued her mother, 'and I want you to take
care of the children till he comes. I've settled with Mr Grigg
downstairs as nobody shall meddle with you till father comes back.
But, Meg, you've got to take care of that your own self. You've
nothing to do with