r thing--make yourself comfortable--it's quite out of the
question to reach Stockington. But stay--are your friends living in
Stockington--what are you?"

"A poor soldier's widow, sir. And may God Almighty bless you!" said the
poor woman, taking the money, the tears standing in her large brown eyes
as she courtesied very low.

"A soldier's widow!" said Mr. Spires. She had touched the softest place
in the manufacturer's heart, for he was a very loyal man, and vehement
champion of his country's honor in the war. "So young," said he, "how did
you lose your husband?"

"He fell, sir," said the poor woman; but she could get no further; she
suddenly caught up the corner of her gray cloak, covered her face with
it, and burst into an excess of grief.

The manufacturer felt as if he had hit the woman a blow by his careless
question; he sat watching her for a moment in silence, and then said,
"Come, get into the gig, my poor woman; come, I must see you to
Stockington."

The poor woman dried her tears, and heavily climbed into the gig,
expressing her gratitude in a very touching and modest manner. Spires
buttoned the apron over her, and taking a look at the child, said in a
cheerful tone to comfort her, "Bless me, but that is a fine thumping
fellow, though. I don't wonder that you are tired, carrying such a load."

The poor woman pressed the stout child, apparently two years old, to her
breast, as if she felt it a great blessing and no load: the gig drove
rapidly on.

Presently Mr. Spires resumed his conversation.

"So you are from Stockington?"

"No, sir, my husband was."

"So: what was his name?"

"John Deg, sir."

"Deg?" said Mr. Spires. "Deg, did you say?"

"Yes, sir."

The manufacturer seemed to hitch himself off toward his own side of the
gig, gave another look at her, and was silent. The poor woman was
somewhat astonished at his look and movement, and was silent too.

After awhile Mr. Spires said again, "And do you hope to find friends in
Stockington? Had you none where you came from?"

"None, sir, none in the world!" said the poor woman, and again her
feelings seemed too strong for her. At length she added, "I was in
service, sir, at Poole, in Dorsetshire, when I married; my mother only
was living, and while I was away with my husband, she died. When-when
the news came from abroad--that when I was a widow, sir, I went back to
my native place, and the parish officers said I must go to my husband's
paris