vident. Miss Berry expected the reverse; 'and is married to
a silver-chaser. Oh yes, Miss, SHE is alive,' said Mrs Wickam, laying
strong stress on her nominative case.

It being clear that somebody was dead, Mrs Pipchin's niece inquired who
it was.

'I wouldn't wish to make you uneasy,' returned Mrs Wickam, pursuing her
supper. Don't ask me.'

This was the surest way of being asked again. Miss Berry repeated her
question, therefore; and after some resistance, and reluctance, Mrs
Wickam laid down her knife, and again glancing round the room and at
Paul in bed, replied:

'She took fancies to people; whimsical fancies, some of them; others,
affections that one might expect to see--only stronger than common. They
all died.'

This was so very unexpected and awful to Mrs Pipchin's niece, that
she sat upright on the hard edge of the bedstead, breathing short, and
surveying her informant with looks of undisguised alarm.

Mrs Wickam shook her left fore-finger stealthily towards the bed where
Florence lay; then turned it upside down, and made several emphatic
points at the floor; immediately below which was the parlour in which
Mrs Pipchin habitually consumed the toast.

'Remember my words, Miss Berry,' said Mrs Wickam, 'and be thankful that
Master Paul is not too fond of you. I am, that he's not too fond of
me, I assure you; though there isn't much to live for--you'll excuse my
being so free--in this jail of a house!'

Miss Berry's emotion might have led to her patting Paul too hard on the
back, or might have produced a cessation of that soothing monotony, but
he turned in his bed just now, and, presently awaking, sat up in it with
his hair hot and wet from the effects of some childish dream, and asked
for Florence.

She was out of her own bed at the first sound of his voice; and bending
over his pillow immediately, sang him to sleep again. Mrs Wickam shaking
her head, and letting fall several tears, pointed out the little group
to Berry, and turned her eyes up to the ceiling.

'He's asleep now, my dear,' said Mrs Wickam after a pause, 'you'd better
go to bed again. Don't you feel cold?'

'No, nurse,' said Florence, laughing. 'Not at all.'

'Ah!' sighed Mrs Wickam, and she shook her head again, expressing to the
watchful Berry, 'we shall be cold enough, some of us, by and by!'

Berry took the frugal supper-tray, with which Mrs Wickam had by this
time done, and bade her good-night.

'Good-night, Miss!' returned