“I d’ ’low ’twill do for I,” she said gloomily; “I be a lone ’ooman, Mrs. ----?” She paused tentatively. “Mrs. Cross be my name, my dear. E-es--Maria Cross. E-es, that be my name, my dear.” “Well, Mrs. Cross,” resumed the newcomer, taking up her discourse in a voice tuned to just the same note of melancholy patience as before, “well, Mrs. Cross, as I was a-sayin’, I be a lone ’ooman, a widow ’ooman, and I d’ ’low I must look to be put upon. I bain’t surprised to hear o’ the house bein’ damp and the chimbley smokin’--’tis jest what I mid have expected; and so I’ll tell the agent when I do go for to pay my rent.” “It did ought to be considered in the rent,” suggested Mrs. Cross. “It did,” agreed Mrs. Chaffey, and for a moment her eyes assumed an uncommonly wide-awake expression. “I’ll mention it to the gentleman, but I don’t look for much satisfaction--I don’t indeed, Mrs. Cross. A few shillin’s back maybe, and a new chimbley-pot, and toils put right on the roof, and a bit o’ lead paper maybe at back o’ my bed--no more nor that, Mrs. Cross--they’ll not do more than that for a lone ’ooman.” “And didn’t ye never ha’ no childern?” inquired Mrs. Cross, with her head on one side; “it do seem molloncholy for ye to be left wi’out nobody to do a hand’s turn for ’ee, poor soul.” Mrs. Chaffey shook her head with a portentous expression. “A-h-h-h, Mrs. Cross, my dear,” she said, “if there was sich a thing as a bit o’ gratitood in this world, I wouldn’t be left wi’out a creature to do for me at my time o’ life. Childern of my own I have not,” said Mrs. Chaffey, with an air which indicated that the fact was very much to her credit, “but there’s them livin’ now as I’ve been more than a mother to, what have gone and left I in my ancient years--as thankless.” “Lard, now!” ejaculated her neighbour, much interested; “ye don’t tell I so, Mrs. Chaffey. Somebody what you’ve a-been very good to, I suppose, mum?” “Good!” echoed Mrs. Chaffey. “Good’s not the word for it, Mrs. Cross. ’Twas my first cousin’s child--a poor little penniless maid what was brought up in a institootion--an orphan, my dear, as hadn’t nobody in the world to look to. Well, when her time was up at the institootion, I come for’ard, and I says, ‘I’ll take her,’ I says; ‘she don’t need to go to service,’ I says. ‘I’m her mother’s cousin,’ I told ’em, ‘and she can come to live wi’ I.’” “And they were delighted of course,” suggested Mrs. Cross, as she paused impressively.