"Saint Benedict be merciful to us!" she cried, nearly dropping the basin. "What on earth is all this ado? And the children here in the midst of it! Holy Virgin, help us! There is nothing but trouble for a poor woman in this world. And me as good as a widow, and worse, too. Haimet! Flemild! whatever are you about?" "Mother," said Flemild in politic wise, "I have brought you some help. These good women here seek lodging for the night--any decent kind will serve them--and they offer to pay for it in work. It will be such a rest for you, Mother, if you will take in one or two; and don't you think Franna would do the same, and old Turguia be glad of the chance?" Isel stood with the basin in her hand, and a look half vexed, half amused, upon her face. "Well! what is to be will be," she said at last. "I suppose you've arranged it all. It'll be grand rest to have every thing smashed in the house. Come in, friends, as many of you as like. Those that can't find straw to lie on can sit on a budget. Blessed saints, the shiftlessness of girls!" And with a tone of voice which seemed to be the deeper depth below despair itself, Isel led the way into the house. Derette had fallen a little back, entranced by a sight which always attracted her. She loved any thing that she could pet, whether a baby or a kitten; and had once, to the horror of her mother's housekeeping soul, been discovered offering friendly advances to a whole family of mice. In the arms of the woman who immediately followed the leader, lay what seemed to Derette's eyes a particularly fascinating baby. She now edged her way to her mother's side, with an imploring whisper of "There's a baby, Mother!" "There's three, child. I counted them," was the grim reply. "But, Mother, there's one particular baby--" "Then you'd better go and fetch it, before you lose it," said Isel in the same tone. Derette, who took the suggestion literally, ran out, and with many smiles and encouraging nods, led in the baby and its mother, with a young girl of about eighteen years, who came after them, and seemed to belong to them. "I suppose I shall have to go with you, at any rate through this street," said Haimet, returning after he had set down the bucket. "Our folks here won't understand much of that lingo of yours. Come along." The tone was less rough than the words--it usually was with Haimet,--and the little company followed him down the street, very ready to accept the least attempt at kindness.