'I can tell you my family was very respectable; an' my 'usband, 'e earned twenty-five shillings a week, an' was in the sime plice seventeen years; an' 'is employers sent a beautiful wreath ter put on 'is coffin; an' they tell me they never 'ad such a good workman an' sich an 'onest man before. An' me! Well, I can sy this--I've done my duty by the girl, an' she's never learnt anythin' but good from me. Of course I ain't always been in wot yer might call flourishing circumstances, but I've always set her a good example, as she could tell yer so 'erself if she wasn't speechless.' Mrs. Kemp paused for a moment's reflection. 'As they sy in the Bible,' she finished, 'it's enough ter mike one's grey 'airs go dahn into the ground in sorrer. I can show yer my marriage certificate. Of course one doesn't like ter say much, because of course she's very bad; but if she got well I should 'ave given 'er a talkin' ter.' There was another knock. 'Do go an' see 'oo thet is; I can't, on account of my rheumatics.' Mrs. Hodges opened the door. It was Jim. He was very white, and the blackness of his hair and beard, contrasting with the deathly pallor of his face, made him look ghastly. Mrs. Hodges stepped back. ''Oo's 'e?' she said, turning to Mrs. Kemp. Jim pushed her aside and went up to the bed. 'Doctor, is she very bad?' he asked. The doctor looked at him questioningly. Jim whispered: 'It was me as done it. She ain't goin' ter die, is she?' The doctor nodded. 'O God! wot shall I do? It was my fault! I wish I was dead!' Jim took the girl's head in his hands, and the tears burst from his eyes. 'She ain't dead yet, is she?' 'She's just living,' said the doctor. Jim bent down. 'Liza, Liza, speak ter me! Liza, say you forgive me! Oh, speak ter me!' His voice was full of agony. The doctor spoke. 'She can't hear you.' 'Oh, she must hear me! Liza! Liza!' He sank on his knees by the bedside. They all remained silent: Liza lying stiller than ever, her breast unmoved by the feeble respiration, Jim looking at her very mournfully; the doctor grave, with his fingers on the pulse. The two women looked at Jim. 'Fancy it bein' 'im!' said Mrs. Kemp. 'Strike me lucky, ain't 'e a sight!' 'You 'ave got 'er insured, Mrs. Kemp?' asked the midwife. She could bear the silence no longer. 'Trust me fur thet!' replied the good lady. 'I've 'ad 'er insured ever since she was born. Why, only the other dy I was sayin' ter myself thet all thet money 'ad been wisted, but you see it wasn't; yer never know yer luck, you see!' 'Quite right, Mrs. Kemp; I'm a rare one for insurin'. It's a great thing. I've always insured all my children.' 'The way I look on it is this,' said Mrs. Kemp--'wotever yer do when they're alive, an' we all know as children is very tryin' sometimes, you should give them a good funeral when they dies. Thet's my motto, an' I've always acted up to it.' 'Do you deal with Mr. Stearman?' asked Mrs. Hodges.