ndress--and she became pale as death.

"Yes, certainly," said Martha. "Do you take that so much to heart?
Well, you must have known him years ago, when you were in service in
the house."

"Is he dead? He was such a good, worthy man! There are not many like
him." And the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Good heavens! everything
is whirling around me--it was too much for me. I feel quite ill." And
she leaned against the plank.

"Good heavens, you are ill indeed!" exclaimed the other woman. "Come,
come, it will pass over presently. But no, you really look seriously
ill. The best thing will be for me to lead you home."

"But my linen yonder--"

"I will take care of that. Come, give me your arm. The boy can stay
here and take care of it, and I'll come back and finish the washing;
that's only a trifle."

The laundress's limbs shook under her. "I have stood too long in the
cold water," she said faintly, "and I have eaten and drunk nothing
since this morning. The fever is in my bones. O kind Heaven, help me
to get home! My poor child!" and she burst into tears. The boy wept
too, and soon he was sitting alone by the river, beside the damp
linen. The two women could make only slow progress. The laundress
dragged her weary limbs along, and tottered through the lane and round
the corner into the street where stood the house of the mayor; and
just in front of his mansion she sank down on the pavement. Many
people assembled round her, and Lame Martha ran into the house to get
help. The mayor and his guests came to the window.

"That's the washerwoman!" he said. "She has taken a glass too much.
She is good for nothing. It's a pity for the pretty son she has. I
really like the child very well; but the mother is good for nothing."

Presently the laundress came to herself, and they led her into her
poor dwelling, and put her to bed. Kind Martha heated a mug of beer
for her, with butter and sugar, which she considered the best
medicine; and then she hastened to the river, and rinsed the
linen--badly enough, though her will was good. Strictly speaking, she
drew it ashore, wet as it was, and laid it in a basket.

Towards evening she was sitting in the poor little room with the
laundress. The mayor's cook had given her some roasted potatoes and a
fine fat piece of ham, for the sick woman, and Martha and the boy
discussed these viands while the patient enjoyed the smell, which she
pronounced very nourishing.

And presently the boy