gown,
which did not improve her ruddy complexion, and a frown on her face,
which deepened into a scowl as he came in and she saw the condition of
his boots and the lower part of his pants.

"Charles Sanford," she began, "do you mean to say you walked, and do you
know what time it is?"

"Yes, Martha," he answered, meekly, "it is very late, but I could not
help it, and I insisted upon walking rather than have the tired,
sleeping boy come out in the cold. I needed the exercise. I am not
cold."

"But you _have_ taken cold. You needn't tell me, and I've got the water
ready for a foot-bath, and some hot boneset tea. How did you leave Mr.
Jerrold? and did he take the sacrament at last?" she said, and he
replied:

"No, he did not; he--"

But before he could say more she burst out with growing irritability:

"Not take it! Why then did he send for you on such a night, and why did
you stay so long?"

She was pouring the boiling water into the foot-tub, in which she had
put a preparation of mustard and prickly ash and red pepper, which she
kept on hand for extreme cases like this, and the odor of the steam made
him sick and faint, as, grasping the mantel, he replied:

"He wished me to pray with him; he will not live till morning. Please
don't talk to me any more. I am more tired than I thought, and something
makes me very sick."

He was as white as ashes, and with all her better, softer nature roused,
for Martha was at heart a very good woman, she helped him to a chair,
and bathed his head in alcohol, and rubbed his hands, and did not
question him again. But she made him swallow the herb tea, and she kept
on talking herself, wondering what Hannah would do after her father was
gone. Would she stay there alone, or live with her brother? Most likely
the former, as Mrs. Jerrold would never have her in her family, and
really, one could not blame her, Hannah was so peculiar and queer. Pity
was that she had never married; an old maid was always in the way.

And then Mrs. Martha, as if bent on torturing her husband, to whom every
word was a stab, wondered if any man ever had wanted Hannah Jerrold for
his wife, and asked her husband if he had ever heard of any such thing.

"I should not be likely to know it," he replied, "for until you came, I
never heard any gossip."

There was an implied rebuke in this answer, and it silenced Mrs. Martha,
who said no more of Hannah, but as soon as possible got her lord to bed,
with a soaps