"I don't want no rest," moaned the young wife; "I wants my Jack and my little 'uns! There be Martha a-rummagin' in my boxes and drawers, and puttin' things tidy, as she calls it, and I shan't know a corner when I goes back." "Don't you fret," said Peggy, with an encouraging nod at her. "'Tis better to tidy a place than to untidy it, and maybe she'll have the place dressed up fine to welcome yer. Don't you go for to make the worst o' things. You jest think o' the nice bits, and leave the nasty ones alone. I means to set my mind to think the very best always. And it do come true. "I used to dream when I was a girl, afore I ever went to service, or wored caps, that I'd be a servant to real ladies one day, and live in a house with picturs and carpets, and have as much coal on the fire as ever I wanted, and it all comed to pass. And if you makes up to yourself about the day you goes home, it'll cheer you wonderful. May I make it up?" Without waiting for assent, Peggy went on eagerly, "'Twill be like this. You'll go home in a cab, a-ridin' through the streets like a dook, and your street neighbours will put their heads out o' window to see who it is ridin' up so fine, and then your husban' will lift you out ever so tender, and carry you in, and there 'll be all yer little 'uns with clean faces and shiny hair and best frocks, and Martha will be smilin' too, and the room will be as clean as on a Sunday, and there 'll be a grand tea, watercreases and s'rimps, and maybe a currant cake, and you'll be sat in an easy-chair, and they'll all be waitin' on yer, and yer husband 'll say, 'My girl, we're awful glad to get you back!' He 'll say, 'We never knowed your vally till you were away from us!'" The poor young woman began to sob, but she was comforted. "You do put things egsackly as they be!" she said admiringly, drying her tears. "Yes, it will be beautiful to be 'ome agen! I'll try and think of it." Peggy had also a word for the doctors. One of them stood over her one morning, and complimented her on her recovery. "You have a splendid constitution," he said. "I've known some less badly burnt than you succumb to the shock." "Please, sir, does that mean die? I never should a thought o' doin' that, for I means to be a missionary when I grows up, and I knows that God likes me to be it, so He'll take care on me, and not let me die till I've been and done it." The doctor looked at her with an amused smile. Peggy continued, looking at him earnestly—"I s'pose you are very disappointed, sir, ain't you, when you can't make people well?" "Well, yes, I think we are." "It must be tryin' to you," said Peggy; "I does feel for you gentlemen, when you come round in the mornin's and finds your physic ain't doin' no good. There ain't a doctor in London, sir, is there, that be quite certain of curin' folks?" "Not if the disease is too far gone," said the doctor, "or is incurable."