Indeed, as months went by, we saw less and less of father. He was always with Mr. Simmons, and seldom came home except to dine and sleep. I think Mr. Simmons had the sort of mastery over him that a strong mind has over a weak one. Now and then they came in together, and I used to think of grannie's dread of Mr. Simmons, when I saw his smooth silky manners, and the sort of way in which he managed father, and made him do and say and even think just what he liked. But I could not venture on a word. Mother always seemed pleased to see Mr. Simmons. She did not in the least understand the harm he was doing. Father had quite left off going to Church, and mother was seldom to be seen there either. They often laughed at me for being so regular, but I am thankful to say I never was even tempted to give it up. My chief comfort those days was in religion. I had nothing else. It was a life of hard slaving, with no love to cheer me in my work. Father was never satisfied, whatever I did. It was through Mrs. Raikes that the whisper of how things really were first reached mother and me. She and mother were always trying still which could outdo the other, and they were in a sort of way at daggers drawn, if one may use the expression, though they didn't call themselves enemies. Mrs. Raikes came in one day to see mother, with a fine wreath of red roses in her bonnet, which she had just bought—bigger and redder than one which mother had bought the week before. I suppose she came to show it off. I remember how her eyes spied all about our parlour, to see if there was anything in it new which she had not in hers. I wonder if I am uncharitable to write so. I know I am only saying simple truth; for she and mother used to boast and quarrel quite openly about which could be the smartest. "Well," said she, "and what do you think of your husband being so mighty thick, as he has become of late, with that fellow Simmons?" "Oh, Mr. Simmons and he are friends," mother said, tossing her head, "and I don't see why they shouldn't be, either. Mr. Simmons is an uncommon pleasant-spoken gentleman, and he's uncommon fond of my husband." "Sooner your husband than mine," said Mrs. Raikes, and she gave a snort. "Raikes says to me once upon a time, says he, 'I'll bring Simmons home with me to dinner,' says he; 'I've met him, and I don't dislike him.' 'No, thank you,' says I; 'not if I knows it, Raikes. A mean sneaking cheat, as 'ud worm a secret out of a toad in a stone, and flay a man alive for sixpence. Not if I knows it,' says I. 'Why dear me, Kitty,' says he, 'whatever do you know of him?' 'Oh, you trust me,' says I; 'I've eyes and ears, I hope; and I know how to use 'em, too. No Simmons for me, if you please.' And Raikes he just laughed and didn't say another word. Oh, everybody knows what Simmons is at. And if you're not above taking a bit of friendly advice as it's meant, Mrs. Murdock, you'll do your best to get your husband out of his clutches."