ive pounds, I was sure we couldn't afford
it. Oh, no; the window must go as it is; and pretty weather for a dear
child to sleep with a broken window. He's got a cold already on his lungs,
and I shouldn't at all wonder if that broken window settled him; if the
dear boy dies, his death will be upon his father's head, for I'm sure we
can't now pay to mend windows. We might, though, and do a good many more
things, if people didn't throw away their five pounds.

Next Tuesday the fire-insurance is due. I should like to know how it's to
be paid. Why, it can't be paid at all. That five pounds would have just
done it, and now insurance is out of the question. And there never were so
many fires as there are now. I shall never close my eyes all night; but
what's that to you, so people can call you liberal, Mr. Caudle? Your wife
and children may all be burnt alive in their beds, as all of us to a
certainty shall be, for the insurance must drop. After we've insured for
so many years! But how, I should like to know, are people to insure who
make ducks and drakes of their five pounds?

I did think we might go to Margate this summer. There's poor Caroline, I'm
sure she wants the sea. But no, dear creature, she must stop at home;
she'll go into a consumption, there's no doubt of that; yes, sweet little
angel. I've made up my mind to lose her now. The child might have been
saved; but people can't save their children and throw away five pounds,
too.

I wonder where little Cherub is? While you were lending that five pounds,
the dog ran out of the shop. You know I never let it go into the street,
for fear it should be bit by some mad dog and come home and bite the
children. It wouldn't at all astonish me if the animal was to come back
with hydrophobia and give it to all the family. However, what's your
family to you, so you can play the liberal creature with five pounds?

Do you hear that shutter, how it's banging to and fro? Yes, I know what it
wants as well as you: it wants a new fastening. I was going to send for
the blacksmith to-day. But now it's out of the question: now it must bang
of nights, since you have thrown away five pounds.

Well, things have come to a pretty pass! This is the first night I ever
made my supper of roast beef without pickles. But who is to afford pickles
when folk are always lending five pounds?

Do you hear the mice running about the room? I hear them. If they were
only to drag you out of bed, it would be