“Don’t be nervous, Miss Celia; it’s only me--Anna Strelitzki,” she said hurriedly. “I’m in trouble; I’ve come to you for help. They’ve given Jacob the sack at Mendel’s factory, and they say they won’t take him on again this time. And he’s spent every penny we had in drink--all the money I had saved up for the rent this week. And baby has got the croup, and Dr. Milnes says she must have careful attention and nourishment, and I ain’t got a bit of coal in the house. I’m that worried I don’t know where to turn.” She burst into tears, and her frame shook with heavy sobs. Celia was quite distressed. She knew Anna’s husband, Jacob Strelitzki. He was a surly Jew of the worst type, and had given trouble at the factory on more than one occasion. “I am so sorry for you,” she said sympathetically. “Will you come up to the Towers and see Mr. Karne? If you tell him all your difficulties, he will see what can be done; you ought to have gone to him before.” But the woman hung back. “I can’t go to Mr. Karne,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron. “Jacob had a row with him this week when he had been drinking, and Mr. Karne said he wouldn’t give him any more help, and called him a renegade and a scoundrel, and----” It was beginning to snow. Celia cut her short. “Well, I will speak to my brother,” she said kindly. “I feel sure he will help you and baby, even if he won’t assist your husband. But here is something to tide you over your immediate difficulty.” She opened her purse and took out a sovereign, which represented all her weekly allowance. Mrs. Strelitzki accepted it with effusive thanks, and called down blessings upon the girl’s head. Although she possessed some qualms of conscience for taking money on the Sabbath, she satisfied her scruples by the thought that she would be able to say her Sabbath prayers more fervently. Celia watched her turn and disappear in the darkness, then hurried onwards, for it was getting late. Her brother was already in his own room, dressing for dinner, when she arrived home, so that she could not speak to him then about the Strelitzkis, but they occupied her thoughts as she made her evening toilette. She remembered their humble wedding three years ago. Anna had been such a pretty bride, and Jacob was steady and industrious then. Their lives had been full of promise; but now Jacob drank, and Anna was an ill-used wife. She wondered how it felt to have a drunken husband: it must be dreadful; she shuddered at the thought. Suppose David were to take to drink and ill-use her? But it was absurd to think of such a thing. Jewish men proverbially made good husbands, and a drunken Jew was, fortunately, a rare exception.