"Mother, dear," said Jane, "I was comparing myself with her yesterday; wondering which of us was the worst off, the more miserable. I thought I was. I almost felt that I could have changed places with her." "Jane!" angrily interjected Mrs. Coney. "I did. She knew the extent of her trouble, she could see all that it involved; I did not see the extent of mine. I suppose it is always thus--that other people's sorrows seem light when compared with our own. The reason must no doubt be that we cannot realize theirs, whilst we realize ours only too keenly." "My dear, I don't care to talk of this." "Nor I much--but hear me for a minute, mother. God has been so merciful to me, and she is still as she was, that I--I should like to do what I can for her when we come back again, and comfort and keep her." "Keep her!" "Keep her from want, I mean." "But, child, she has been--you don't know what she has been," gravely rebuked Mrs. Coney. "I think I do, mother." "She is a poor outcast, Jane; with neither home to go to, nor friends to look upon her." Jane burst into tears: they had been hardly kept down since she had begun to speak. "Just so, mother. But what was I yesterday? If Robert had been tried for his life, and condemned, I should have felt like an outcast; perhaps been looked upon as no better than one by the world." "Goodness, Jane, I wish you'd exercise your common sense," cried Mrs. Coney, losing patience. "I tell you she _is_ an outcast, and has forfeited home and friends. She has been a great sinner." "Mother, if she had a home and friends, there would be no need to succour her. As to sin--perhaps we can save her from that for the future. My gratitude for the mercy shown to _me_ is such that I feel as if I could take her to my bosom; it seems to my mind that I ought to do something for her, that she has been thrown in my way that I should do it. Mother, it is my last petition to you: see after her a little for me until we come back again." "Very well, dear; as you make this point of it," concluded Mrs. Coney, relenting just a little. And then Jane began to cry hysterically; and Tom Coney knocked at the door, saying time was up.