the dinner-hour, and the boy had to get back to school. He was but a little fellow, and by no means strong, yet he carried the bucket of cinders and firewood easily enough. When the boy had gone to school the widow turned to me as if apologizing for wasting three farthings. "I must have some fire for the children when they come in." "Aren't you going to make the fire up for yourself? It will soon be out, and it is very cold to-day." "No; I am going to work hard, and the time soon goes. I shall light it again at half-past four," said the unthrifty widow. Meanwhile I had inspected the cinders, which I found to be more than half dirt, fit only for a dust-destructor, but certainly not fit to burn in a living-room. "Do you buy cinders by weight or measure?" "I think he measures them." "How much have you got here?" "Two quarts." "Do you see that quite half is dirt?" "They are dirty. I expect he has nearly sold out. When he has a fresh lot we get better cinders, for the small and the dirt get left till the last." "I suppose he will not have a fresh supply in till he has cleared the last?" "No; he likes to sell out first. One day when I complained about them he said: 'Ah! they are pretty bad. Never mind! the more you buy, the sooner they'll be gone; then we'll have a better lot.'" "How many fires will your cinders make?" "Two, if I put a bit of coal with them." "Do you ever buy a hundredweight of coal?" "Not since my husband died. I try to buy a quarter twice a week." "How much do you give for a quarter?" "Five-pence." "How many fires can you light with your farthing bundle of wood?" "Two, if I don't use some of it to make the kettle boil." "How much rent do you pay?" "Five shillings for two rooms." Poor widow! Because ye have not, even the little that ye have is of a truth taken from you. CHAPTER XII OLD BOOTS AND SHOES