‘In that case, my dear, there’s nothing more to be said,’ said Miss Charity, briskly, ‘only that you ought not to come here under false pretences, taking us all in, and looking respectable, as you do. But, however bad you may be, Mrs. Meredith is not bad. I don’t know much about the husband; perhaps they don’t get on together very well. Perhaps it is health. She lives here, and he lives there--that is all I know; but she is a better woman than I am; that I’ll answer for. How she can put up with that fool of a nephew of mine, I can’t tell. He is very learned, I grant, and a fellow of half the societies. Well, and so your boy said----? What is the woman crying for, I would like to know?’ ‘Oh!’ wept Mrs. Burchell, ‘I never thought to have lived to be so spoken to; and by an old friend. Oh, Cherry! you that have known me from a girl, how can you sit still and do your knitting, and hear me talked to so?’ ‘She does not mean it,’ said Miss Cherry, softly, ‘dear Maria! She has been ill. She can’t help being a little irritable.’ ‘Stuff!’ said Miss Charity. ‘She brought it on herself. Go away, Cherry; if I were irritable, it is you who would feel it first. Now, Maria, don’t be more of a fool than you can help. What did the boy say?’ Miss Cherry went back to her knitting, with a suppressed sigh. It was very true that it was she who paid the penalty first; but to see anybody crying troubled the kind soul. She gave a kind little pat as she passed to Mrs. Burchell’s fat shoulders. She was knitting a huge white shawl in thick wool, to keep the old lady warm, and her own slight person was half lost in its folds.