Argument and persuasion were of no avail; the indomitable little woman was proof against both: not a penny would she receive. The money might be sent back, or I might use it for the poor who needed it, but not for them--not for them. So she gathered the money up and gave it back to me. Had I not taken it, she would have thrown it into the street. Foolish old woman! but brave, heroic old woman! We left her with full hearts, and the chink of the money was not quite so joyous. Years ago timely help and kind sympathy might have cheered and comforted her, but now it is too late, for she will die rather than receive it. Years have gone by, but the pair are still living together. A few Sundays ago I met them out for a walk, both looking older and more feeble, their ancient clothing still more rusty; both living the same hard lives, hand in hand, down to the grave they go. It will be a mercy if they can cross the bourne together, for brave, steadfast, and heroic in their lives, even death should not divide them. The story of Charles Lamb and his sister lives; his love and devotion to his poor sister will never be forgotten, for his love almost passed the love of women. Up and down the neighbourhood where these sisters live Charles and Mary Lamb had many times wandered hand in hand. Can the example of the witty writer and loving heart have influenced the poor washerwomen? No, for she never heard of him. Only the promptings of her own true heart were needed, only the feeble strength of a little woman was required, only unceasing toil, only perpetual pain, only reticent poverty, sustained for many a year, and a life was lived, endurance exhibited, and a devotion shown that will compare with any lives of which I have ever heard or read, and will not lose in the comparison. But she was only a poor washerwoman! So in their little homes, in their crowded tenements, high up in the ‘blocks,’ or low down in their underground bedrooms, the poor live, so they die. I could tell of their sins, and of their vices, but that would be no pleasure to me; so I tell of their virtues and sorrows, of their patience and love, of their sufferings and wrongs. CHAPTER XIII THE PROBLEM OF HOME WORKERS