nt and her daughter
(I really cannot call her my cousin!) had arrived from the country
a week since, and meditated making some stay in London. I sent up a
message at once, declining to disturb them, and only begging to know
whether I could be of any use.

The person who answered the door, took my message in insolent silence,
and left me standing in the hall. She is the daughter of a heathen old
man named Betteredge--long, too long, tolerated in my aunt's family.
I sat down in the hall to wait for my answer--and, having always a few
tracts in my bag, I selected one which proved to be quite providentially
applicable to the person who answered the door. The hall was dirty, and
the chair was hard; but the blessed consciousness of returning good for
evil raised me quite above any trifling considerations of that kind. The
tract was one of a series addressed to young women on the sinfulness of
dress. In style it was devoutly familiar. Its title was, "A Word With
You On Your Cap-Ribbons."

"My lady is much obliged, and begs you will come and lunch to-morrow at
two."

I passed over the manner in which she gave her message, and the dreadful
boldness of her look. I thanked this young castaway; and I said, in a
tone of Christian interest, "Will you favour me by accepting a tract?"

She looked at the title. "Is it written by a man or a woman, Miss? If
it's written by a woman, I had rather not read it on that account. If
it's written by a man, I beg to inform him that he knows nothing about
it." She handed me back the tract, and opened the door. We must sow the
good seed somehow. I waited till the door was shut on me, and slipped
the tract into the letter-box. When I had dropped another tract through
the area railings, I felt relieved, in some small degree, of a heavy
responsibility towards others.

We had a meeting that evening of the Select Committee of the
Mothers'-Small-Clothes-Conversion-Society. The object of this excellent
Charity is--as all serious people know--to rescue unredeemed fathers'
trousers from the pawnbroker, and to prevent their resumption, on the
part of the irreclaimable parent, by abridging them immediately to suit
the proportions of the innocent son. I was a member, at that time,
of the select committee; and I mention the Society here, because my
precious and admirable friend, Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite, was associated
with our work of moral and material usefulness. I had expected to see
him in the boardroom,