The old woman turned pale at this home thrust, and muttering something about meaning no harm, retired into the crowd. My uncle asked the child a few questions, and then, turning to the dame who was measuring the milk, he bade her fill the child's pitcher, at the same time putting a piece of silver into her hand. "That I will, your worship, and give her good measure too!" answered Dame Goodman. "Jenny Higgins is a good, hard-working creature, and not to be blamed for her husband's follies. Drat the man, why can't he believe as his betters tell him, and not go prying where he has no business?" My uncle smiled, but sadly methought, and Sambo's great can being filled, we walked away by another road. "Who was that old woman, aunt? You seemed to know her," said he presently. "Who was it but old Madge Davis, who lives in your house in the Minories, and has paid no rent for six months," answered my aunt. "She is a bad handful, and keeps the other tenants in constant hot water by her meddling and tattling." "That must be seen to. I think we will put her in the cottage with old John. He is so deaf she can not tattle to him, and there will be no one else to quarrel with." "Most people would turn her into the street," said my aunt; "and indeed she deserves nothing better." "Ah, dear aunt, were we all to have our deserts, who should escape?" asked my uncle, sighing. "It would ill become me, to whom have been forgiven ten thousand talents, to take my fellow-servant by the throat who owes me but an hundred pence." I did not understand the allusion at the time, but afterward I read the story aloud to my uncle in his great book. We had now come some distance and were arrived at another field, inclosed, but with convenient paths and turnstiles for foot passengers. On the side of this field toward the street were about half a dozen small, but neat and well-built two-story cottages, each with its little garden-plot stocked with pot herbs and some homely flowers. In most of them the windows were open, and on the sills, which were quite low, lay a clean white cloth and a rosary. The inmates were mostly bed-rid, but in one or two the old man or woman might be seen sitting bolstered up in a great chair. I at once guessed that these were almshouses of some sort. My cousins told me afterward that they were founded by some prior of the Priory of Trinity, a kinsman of our own, who had left a provision for the care of the poor bedesmen and women.