der of needlewomen. She could do the
most perfect work with that right hand which was so soon to be useless.
Machine-made work excited her strongest contempt, but work of the best
order, the finest hand-made needlework, could be given over to her care
with perfect satisfaction. She had a good connection amongst the West
End shops, and had year after year earned sufficient money to bring up
the six orphan children comfortably and well. Alison, the eldest girl,
was now seventeen, and was earning her own living in a shop near by.
David was also doing something for himself, but the four younger
children were still dependent on Grannie. They were all like her as
regards high spirits, cleanliness, and a certain bright way of looking
at life.

"I'll not be discouraged, and I'll not believe that doctor," she
murmured, as she mounted the long flight of stairs which led to the
fifth floor. "Aint I always 'ad good luck all the days o' a long
life?" She reached her own landing at last, panting a little for
breath as she did so. She opened her hall door with a latch-key and
entered the kitchen. The kitchen was absolutely neat, the stove shone
like a looking-glass, the dinner was cooking in the oven, and the table
round which the entire family were soon to dine already wore its coarse
white cloth.

"There, I'm not going to murmur," said the old woman to herself.

She went into her bedroom, took off her shawl, shook it out, folded it
neatly, and put it away. She took off her bonnet and dusted it, pinned
it into an old white cambric handkerchief, and laid it beside the shawl
on a little shelf. Her white gloves and white handkerchief shared the
same attention. Then she brushed her white hair, put on a neat cap,
and returned to the kitchen.

Ten minutes afterward this kitchen was full of noise, life, and
confusion. The four younger children had come back from Board school.
Harry, the eldest boy, had rushed in from a bookseller's near by, and
Alison, who served behind a counter in one of the shops in Shoreditch,
had unexpectedly returned.

Alison was a very tall and pretty girl. She had dark blue eyes and an
upright carriage; her hair was golden with some chestnut shades in it.
She had a clear complexion like her grandmother's, and firm lips, with
a sweet expression. As a rule she had a cheerful face, but to-day she
looked anxious. Grannie gave her one quick glance, and guessed at once
that something was troubling her