Just then I heard someone fumbling with a latch-key at the door, and presently in came the aunt, old and wrinkled, bent with age and trouble. Dressed in old-fashioned and badly-worn clothing, black cotton gloves an inch too long for her fingers, she stood and looked at me askance. I told her my errand, for the girl had left us alone. The trembling old woman sat down, put her glove-covered hands to her face, and rocked herself backward and forward, and I could see the tears trickling down. Presently she stood up, and tremblingly drew off one of her gloves, and said, ‘That’s all we have in the world, sir, and that is my parish allowance; I have just been to fetch it.’ I looked at her old skinny hand, and there in the palm lay a solitary half-crown. The girl was called in again, when I told her that I was taking her aunt to her mother, and that shortly both would be back again. The old lady was so feeble and excited that I had to support her till we got a conveyance. When we got to the court, I had again to give her my arm; but when I had paid the doctor’s fee and the cell-door was opened to her niece, she wanted none of my support; for, as soon as she saw her niece coming up the passage, she loosed her hold of me and with eager steps and a pitiful cry ran toward the tottering woman; and presently their arms were round each other, and the bruised face of the younger woman was laid against the furrows and wrinkles of the older woman, while their tears blended together. I thought it best to see them ‘home,’ but they did not offer to tell me who they were; they did, however, tell me that the girl was a member of a well-known choir, and was only ‘home’ for a short holiday. I found out, though, what had brought the younger woman to the police court. She had taken home some finished work to a lady, who praised it and gave her more work to do. Unfortunately, she did not think of paying her, but more unfortunately still, she gave her a glass of spirits. Doubtless it was meant kindly, but it was disastrous; for the woman was weak for want of proper food, and in just that condition of body and mind when some food would have been most useful. Having to return home by tramcar, and the inside being full, she had to mount the outside. Just as she got to the top, and before she could get a seat, the car started, and overboard she went. The spirits had doubtless made her a bit giddy, but she told me that she would not have fallen but for the car starting too soon--in fact, before she was off the steps. I called again to see them. The girl had rejoined her choir; the wrinkled old lady sat in the almost empty house, thinking, thinking, everlastingly thinking of the past; the younger one with her bruised face and head still bandaged, sat at her machine. Once more I called, and the house was empty, and a bill was in the window. They were gone--and I never knew where. Neither did I ever learn whence they came or who they