s this in pain!" And I used to cry out, "O my
blessed children, it's poor me. Have pity on me. Take me up and make me
light!"'

By degrees, as she progressed in this remembrance, the hand was raised,
the late ecstatic look returned, and she became quite beautiful. Having
so paused for a moment, silent, with a listening smile upon her face,
she looked round and recalled herself.

'What poor fun you think me; don't you, Mr Wrayburn? You may well look
tired of me. But it's Saturday night, and I won't detain you.'

'That is to say, Miss Wren,' observed Eugene, quite ready to profit by
the hint, 'you wish me to go?'

'Well, it's Saturday night,' she returned, and my child's coming
home. And my child is a troublesome bad child, and costs me a world of
scolding. I would rather you didn't see my child.'

'A doll?' said Eugene, not understanding, and looking for an
explanation.

But Lizzie, with her lips only, shaping the two words, 'Her father,' he
delayed no longer. He took his leave immediately. At the corner of the
street he stopped to light another cigar, and possibly to ask himself
what he was doing otherwise. If so, the answer was indefinite and vague.
Who knows what he is doing, who is careless what he does!

A man stumbled against him as he turned away, who mumbled some maudlin
apology. Looking after this man, Eugene saw him go in at the door by
which he himself had just come out.

On the man's stumbling into the room, Lizzie rose to leave it.

'Don't go away, Miss Hexam,' he said in a submissive manner, speaking
thickly and with difficulty. 'Don't fly from unfortunate man in
shattered state of health. Give poor invalid honour of your company. It
ain't--ain't catching.'

Lizzie murmured that she had something to do in her own room, and went
away upstairs.

'How's my Jenny?' said the man, timidly. 'How's my Jenny Wren, best of
children, object dearest affections broken-hearted invalid?'

To which the person of the house, stretching out her arm in an attitude
of command, replied with irresponsive asperity: 'Go along with you! Go
along into your corner! Get into your corner directly!'

The wretched spectacle made as if he would have offered some
remonstrance; but not venturing to resist the person of the house,
thought better of it, and went and sat down on a particular chair of
disgrace.

'Oh-h-h!' cried the person of the house, pointing her little finger,
'You bad old boy! Oh-h-h you naughty, wicked cre