"It’s real kind of you, mum!" the old woman cried. "She’ll be rare and pleased, she will, poor little missy! You see, mum, it’s been a queer, strange life for a child, for she’s been everything to him, and she never could go out and play in the street with the other children. That couldn’t be, and it was hard for the little thing to see ’em and be shut off from ’em all day as she was; and the master on that account used to make hisself more to her, which will make it all the harder for her now, poor fatherless, motherless lamb that she is!" "Of course, of course. Poor little maid! And what will become of her, do you think?" "I can’t say for certain, mum; but the mistress, she had relations, and the master wrote to one of them on Thursday. He was sore troubled about little missy, was the master--aye, sore troubled. The letter was sent, and an answer came this morning to say that one of missy’s aunts was coming to-day. The vicar opened it." "Oh, well, I’m glad somebody is coming to the poor child," said the lady who had brought the basket of fruit. "I hope it will be all right. And you will give her the things, nurse?" with a look at the basket. "Oh, yes, mum," with a curtsey. There was not only some fruit in the basket, but a pot of jam and a jar of potted meat, a glass of jelly, some sponge cakes, and a packet of sweeties, such as little folk love. The old nurse carried them into the sitting-room and set them down on the table before a little girl who was sitting beside it. "See, missy, what a nice basket of good things Mrs. Tracy has brought for you!" the old woman cried. "Wasn’t it kind of her?" "Very kind," said the little girl, brightening up somewhat at the unexpected kindness from one almost a stranger to her. "Grapes, Miss Sarah, and peaches, and Orleans plums; and see--potted meat! Now how could she know you’re so fond of potted meat?" "I don’t know, nurse; _he_ liked potted meat too, you know." "Yes, dear, yes; but he’s gone where he has all he’s most fond of, you know." "Except me," murmured Sarah, under her breath. "Ah, that’s true, my lamb; but you mustn’t repine. Him as took the master away so calm and peaceful last night knew just what was best to do, and He’ll do it, never fear! It’s hard to bear, my honey, and sure," with a sigh, "no one knows better what bearing such is than old nurse. And--hark! to think of any one coming with a knock like that! enough to waken the----" But then she broke off short, and went to open the door. CHAPTER II HER NEW-FOUND AUNT A short, stout, well-dressed woman stood upon the door-step, and the cabman was just hauling a box off the roof of his cab. "Mr. Gray’s ’ouse?" demanded the stout lady. "Ah, pore thing! I see it’s all over. Pore thing! Well, I’m sorry, of course, though I don’t suppose ’e’ll be much loss to any one; pore, dreaming, shiftless thing!"