hink of reforming. In this way he would be able to shift about the
remaining lodgers without too great a loss to himself, and avoid the
necessity of turning helpless people into the street.

Mr. Woodstock had considerably more knowledge of the state of his
property, and of the tenants inhabiting it, than is usual with
landlords of his kind; for all that, the present examination brought to
light not a few things which were startling even to him. Since Waymark
had ceased to act as his collector, the office had been filled by an
agent of the ordinary kind, and Mr. Woodstock had, till just now, taken
less interest in the property than formerly. Things had got worse on
the whole. Whereas Waymark had here and there been successful in
suppressing the grosser forms of uncleanliness by threats of expulsion,
and at times by the actual enforcement of his threat, no such
supervision had of late been exercised. There were very few houses in
which the air was at all tolerable; in many instances the vilest odours
hung about the open door-ways. To pass out of Elm Court into the wider
streets around was like a change to the freshness of woods and fields.
And the sources of this miasma were only too obvious.

The larger houses which made up Litany Lane had underground cellars; in
the court there were fortunately no such retreats. On entering one of
these former houses, the two were aware of an especially offensive
odour rising from below the stairs. Pursuing, however, their plan of
beginning at the garrets, they went up together. In the room at the top
they came upon a miserable spectacle. On something which, for want of
another name, was probably called a bed, there lay a woman either
already dead or in a state of coma, and on the floor sat two very young
children, amusing themselves with a dead kitten, their only toy. Mr.
Woodstock bent over the woman and examined her. He found that she was
breathing, though in a slow and scarcely perceptible way; her eyes were
open, but expressed no consciousness. The slightly-parted lips were
almost black, and here and there on her face there seemed to be a kind
of rash. Mr. Woodstock's companion, after taking one glance, drew
hastily back.

"Looks like small-pox," he said, in an alarmed voice. "I wouldn't stand
so near, sir, if I was you."

"Isn't there any one to look to her?" said Abraham. Then turning to one
of the children, "Where's your father?" he asked.

"Dono," was the little fellow's i