sist on the stout paper being produced; but
the woman, as if she was glad of an opportunity of spiting him, snatched
the candles away, and tied them up in a moment in the torn old cravat. I
was afraid he would have struck her before my face, he seemed in such a
fury; but, fortunately, another customer came in, and obliged him to put
his hands to peaceable and proper use.

"Quite a bundle of all-sorts on the opposite counter there," I said to
the woman, as I paid her for the candles.

"Yes, and all hoarded up for sale by a poor creature with a lazy brute
of a husband, who lets his wife do all the work while he spends all
the money," answered the woman, with a malicious look at the man by her
side.

"He can't surely have much money to spend, if his wife has no better
work to do than picking up rags," said I.

"It isn't her fault if she hasn't got no better," says the woman, rather
angrily. "She's ready to turn her hand to anything. Charing, washing,
laying-out, keeping empty houses--nothing comes amiss to her. She's my
half-sister, and I think I ought to know."

"Did you say she went out charing?" I asked, making believe as if I knew
of somebody who might employ her.

"Yes, of course I did," answered the woman; "and if you can put a job
into her hands, you'll be doing a good turn to a poor hard-working
creature as wants it. She lives down the Mews here to the right--name of
Horlick, and as honest a woman as ever stood in shoe-leather. Now, then,
ma'am, what for you?"

Another customer came in just then, and occupied her attention. I left
the shop, passed the turning that led down to the Mews, looked up at
the name of the street, so as to know how to find it again, and then ran
home as fast as I could. Perhaps it was the remembrance of my strange
dream striking me on a sudden, or perhaps it was the shock of the
discovery I had just made, but I began to feel frightened without
knowing why, and anxious to be under shelter in my own room.

It Robert should come back! Oh, what a relief and help it would be now
if Robert should come back!

May 1st. On getting indoors last night, the first thing I did, after
striking a light, was to take the ragged cravat off the candles, and
smooth it out on the table. I then took the end that had been in poor
Mary's hand out of my writing-desk, and smoothed that out too. It
matched the torn side of the cravat exactly. I put them together, and
satisfied myself that there was not a