"You audacious creatur," she screamed; "you audacious hussey, how dare you bring that man in this house--in my house! How dare you?" "He is my father," said Rachel, confounded, both at the accusation, and at the unexpected appearance of Mrs. Brown. The reply exasperated Mrs. Brown. She had never felt any extraordinary friendship or affection for her deceased cousin; but she had always entertained a very acute sense of her cousin's wrongs, and had accordingly honoured Thomas Gray with no small share of hatred and vituperation, and that Rachel should not feel as she did on the subject, or should presume to remember that the sinner was her father, was, in Mrs. Brown's eyes, an offence of the deepest dye. She gave her feelings free vent. She was a vulgar woman, and had a flow of vulgar eloquence at her command. She overwhelmed Rachel and Thomas Gray with sarcasm, scorn and abuse, and Rachel answered not one word, but heard her out, still as a statue, and pale as death. Mrs. Brown, too, was pale, but it was with wrath. "Do you know," she added, trembling from head to foot with that passion, "do you know that I could turn you out on the streets, you and your beggarly father--do you know that?" Rachel did know it, and groaned inwardly. Mrs. Brown saw her agony, and triumphed in the consciousness of her own power. But the very violence of her anger had by this time exhausted it; she felt much calmer, and took a more rational view of things. "I am a fool to mind what a simpleton like you does," observed Mrs. Brown, with that disregard of politeness which was one of her attributes; "for, being a simpleton, how can you but do the acts of a simpleton? As to bringing your father here, you must have been mad to think of it; for, if you can't support yourself, how can you support him? However, it's lucky I'm come in time to set all to rights. What's his parish? Marylebone, ain't it? I shall see the overseer this very day, and manage that for you; and it's just as well," added Mrs. Brown, divesting herself of bonnet and shawl, and proceeding to make herself at home, "that you didn't meddle, in it--a pretty mess you'd have made of it, I'll be bound. Well! and what do you stand dreaming there for? Make me a cup of tea--will you? I am just ready to drop with it all." As a proof of her assertion, she sank on the chair next her, took out her pocket-handkerchief, and began fanning herself. But, instead of complying with Mrs. Brown's orders, Rachel Gray stood before that lady motionless and pale. She looked her in the face steadily, and in a firm, clear voice, she deliberately said: "Mrs. Brown, my father shall never, whilst I live, go to a workhouse." "What!" screamed Mrs. Brown. "I say," repeated Rachel, "that my father shall never, whilst God gives his daughter life, go to a workhouse." Mrs. Brown was confounded--then she laughed derisively. "Nonsense, Rachel," she said, "nonsense. Why, I can turn you out, this very instant."