"What does it matter what some people say, Prissy? There are good and bad, just and unjust. Never listen to tittle-tattle." "'Ow's it to be 'elped, Mr. Cohen, when it's dinged in yer ears? Mr. Whimpole, he ses he sor wot was coming all along, and when I ups and gives 'im a bit o' my mind he slaps my face he does, and pushes me into the gutter. I don't mind that, but no one's going to speak agin yer when I'm by. It ain't likely after all yer've done for me." "You are a good girl, but take no notice of what Mr. Whimpole says. There are many here who still have a good word for me." "Plenty, sir, and that's wot makes Mr. Whimpole mad; he can't make everybody think as he wants 'em to. There's plenty as speaks up for yer. You look ill, Mr. Cohen. I 'ope missis is no wus, I do." "She is still weak and ill, Prissy; but she will get well soon--eh, Prissy?--she will get well soon?" He cast a swift anxious look upon her; even from the lips of this poor girl he sought the comfort of a consoling word. "Yes, sir, she's sure to. Don't you worry yerself, Mr. Cohen. Gawd won't let nothink wrong 'appen to 'er. He knows what He's up to, Gawd does. Wot did Mrs. Cohen say 'erself to me more nor once? 'Be a good gal,' she ses, 'and tell the truth, and be as kind as yer can to everybody, and Gawd'll look after yer.' And ain't she good, sir, and does she ever say anythink but the truth, and ain't she as kind as kind can be to everybody about 'er? Why, it's in everybody's mouth, 'xcept Mr. Whimpole's! Nobody 'xcept 'im's got a word to say agin '_er_. She's sure to get well, Mr. Cohen, and then yer'll let me see 'er, sir, won't yer?" "Yes, Prissy, yes," said Aaron, laying his hand for a moment on Prissy's tangled hair. He had reached his house, and was unlocking the door. "She will get well, please God, and you shall see her. Thank you, thank you, my good girl; and now run away." "I'm off, Mr. Cohen," said Prissy; "this is going to bring yer luck, it is." And slipping a large paper parcel into his hand, she scuttled away. He did not know what it was he held until he reached his room, and then he examined it. When he removed the paper he saw a horseshoe and two penny pieces which had been rubbed bright with sand, so that they shone like gold. Something shone in Aaron's eyes as he gazed at the humble offering. He smiled wistfully, and muttering, "It is an omen of good fortune; God bless you, little Prissy!" put the shoe and the pennies carefully aside. Then he stepped softly up the stairs, and gently tapped at the bedroom door. "How is she, nurse?" "Bearing up wonderfully, sir." "Thank God! The doctor will be here presently. I will wait for him at the street door." He had not long to wait; in a very short time he saw the welcome form turning the corner, and the doctor, with a friendly, smiling nod, passed into the house.