idow, being bound on an
errand down below, called in at the Patmans' with a view to possible
commissions. Meal was wanted, and, while Tishy M'Crum stitched up a rent
in the bag, Mrs. M'Gurk noticed where little Katty, who had been "took
bad wid a could these three days," rustled uncomfortably among wisps of
rushes and rags in an obscure corner. Fever made her bold and
self-assertive, for she was wishing nothing less than that her daddy
would get her an orange--"An or'nge wid yeller peel round it"--Katty
laid stress upon this point--"like the one her mammy got her a long time
ago. And daddy'd be a good daddy and get her another now. And she'd keep
a bit for Bobby and Stevie and all of them--a big yeller or'nge."
Katty's eyes blazed with excitement as she reiterated these extravagant
desires.

"She's got an oncommon fancy for a one," said her daddy, looking
wistfully from the child to his wife.

"They have them down below," suggested the widow, "pence apiece."

Mrs. Patman's hand was slipping towards her pocket. "If it was just for
wunst," she had begun, when Tishy tweaked her sleeve viciously and
interpolated a rapid whisper, "It wont _be_; there'll be no ind to it if
you begin humourin' them," so the sentence was badly dislocated. "She'll
do a dale better widout any such thrash," Mrs. Patman concluded, and
walked off to throw sods on the fire.

Just then the widow became aware that old Joe Patman was grimacing at
her from a corner fast by in a way that might have startled her had she
not been familiar with such modes of beckoning. But when she obeyed his
summons, what she saw did astound her outright, for Joe was stooping low
over a leathern pouch which he had drawn from a wall-cranny, and which
seemed to contain marvellous depths of silver money, with here and there
a golden gleam among it, as he warily stirred it up, circling a hurried
forefinger. She had only the briefest glimpse ere he shoved back the
pouch and thrust a sixpence into her hand, muttering, "Git her the
orange--don't be lettin' on for your life."

As she turned away with a reassuring nod, she perceived that Tishy
M'Crum was standing unexpectedly near, and looking towards them over the
top of the meal-bag. Tishy was bitting off a loose end of thread, which
gave her a determined and ferocious expression, but whether she could
have seen anything or not the widow felt uncertain. She thought not.

About ten days after this Mrs. M'Gurk was roused at a