of of its own. Through Richard's influence Ned
obtained a clerkship in a carrying-agency, which would just keep his
head above water; and she found a tiny, three-roomed house that was
near enough to let her be daily with her sister-in-law when the
latter's time came. Meanwhile, she cut out and helped to sew a complete
little outfit ("What she had before was no better than rags!"); and
Mrs. Ned soon learned to know on whom she could lean and to whom she
might turn, not only for practical aid, but also for a never failing
sympathy in what she called her "troubles."

"I vow your Mary's the kindest-hearted little soul it's ever been me
luck to run across," she averred one day to Mahony, who was visiting
her professionally. "So common-sense, too--no nonsense about HER! I
shouldn't have thought a gaby like Ned could have sported such trump of
a sister."

"Another pensioner for your CARITAS, dear," said Mahony, in passing on
the verdict. What he did not grieve his wife by repeating were certain
bad reports of Ned lately brought him by Jerry. According to Jerry--and
the boy's word was to be relied on--Ned had kept loose company in
Castlemaine, and had acquired the habit of taking more than was good
for him. Did he not speedily amend his ways, there would be small
chance of him remaining in his present post.

Here, Mahony was effectually roused by a stir on the verandah. Jinny
had entered the house to lay down her sleeping babe, and a third voice,
Purdy's, became audible. The wife had evidently brought out a bottle of
her famous home-brewed gingerbeer: he heard the cork pop, the drip of
the overflow on the boards, the clink of the empty glass; and Purdy's
warm words of appreciation.

Then there was silence. Rising from the sofa, Mahony inserted himself
between blind and window, and peeped out.

His first thought was: what a picture! Mary wore a pale pink cotton
gown which, over the light swellings of her crinoline, bulged and
billowed round her, and generously swept the ground. Collar and cuffs
of spotless lawn outlined neck and wrists. She bent low over her
stitching, and the straight white parting of her hair intensified the
ebony of the glossy bands. Her broad pure forehead had neither line nor
stain. On the trellis behind her a vine hung laden with massy bunches
of muscatelles.

Purdy sat on the edge of the verandah, with his back to Mahony. Between
thumb and forefinger he idly swung a pair of scissors.

Urged by so