years at word of command, accommodating
my tottering old steps to those of the other prisoners in my dingy,
hopeless old gang; to hold out a trembling hand for a sicky pittance
of gruel, and say, "Thank you, ma'am," to Miss Prim, when she has done
reading her sermon. John! when Goody Twoshoes comes next Friday, I
desire she may not be disturbed by theological controversies. You have
a very fair voice, and I heard you and the maids singing a hymn very
sweetly the other night, and was thankful that our humble household
should be in such harmony. Poor old Twoshoes is so old and toothless and
quaky, that she can't sing a bit; but don't be giving yourself airs over
her, because she can't sing and you can. Make her comfortable at our
kitchen hearth. Set that old kettle to sing by our hob. Warm her old
stomach with nut-brown ale and a toast laid in the fire. Be kind to the
poor old school-girl of ninety, who has had leave to come out for a day
of Christmas holiday. Shall there be many more Christmases for thee?
Think of the ninety she has seen already; the four-score and ten cold,
cheerless, nipping New Years!

If you were in her place, would you like to have a remembrance of better
early days, when you were young, and happy, and loving, perhaps; or
would you prefer to have no past on which your mind could rest? About
the year 1788, Goody, were your cheeks rosy, and your eyes bright, and
did some young fellow in powder and a pigtail look in them? We may grow
old, but to us some stories never are old. On a sudden they rise up, not
dead, but living--not forgotten, but freshly remembered. The eyes gleam
on us as they used to do. The dear voice thrills in our hearts. The
rapture of the meeting, the terrible, terrible parting, again and again
the tragedy is acted over. Yesterday, in the street, I saw a pair of
eyes so like two which used to brighten at my coming once, that the
whole past came back as I walked lonely, in the rush of the Strand, and
I was young again in the midst of joys and sorrows, alike sweet and sad,
alike sacred and fondly remembered.

If I tell a tale out of school, will any harm come to my old
school-girl? Once, a lady gave her a half-sovereign, which was a source
of great pain and anxiety to Goody Twoshoes. She sewed it away in
her old stays somewhere, thinking here at least was a safe
investment--(vestis--a vest--an investment,--pardon me, thou poor old
thing, but I cannot help the pleasantry). And what do