“That’s what they call me,” said the female peddler. “Mrs. Broadcloth is my real name, though.” Mrs. Griffin had to laugh again. She thought that the name of Broadcloth was even more amusing than that of Cheap Jane. There was a dry humor about the peddler that she rather enjoyed after her forced seclusion from companionship with her kind. “Perhaps you’d like a cup of hot tea before you start out again, Mrs. Broadcloth,” said she, with reckless hospitality. “Thank you kindly,” was the reply, and the old woman drew out a short, black pipe from, some recess under her coarse cloak. “While you draw the tea, I suppose you will let me smoke my pipe by your fire,” she said. “Certainly,” assented Mrs. Griffin, and then her heart suddenly misgave her. It occurred to her that, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, she was making almost too lavish a show of hospitality. “Only suppose that Mr. Delaney should happen in! It isn’t likely he will, but then I’ve heard say that the most unlikely things are always happening,” she thought, apprehensively to herself. “I will step up to his room and see if he wants anything,” was her next thought, with a view to forestalling his possible intrusion on the prohibited guest. Fortune favored her artful design. At that moment a bell rung from the upper room that Mr. Delaney occupied as a bed-chamber. Mrs. Griffin turned to Cheap Jane, who was contentedly puffing away at her stubby pipe. “There is my master’s bell now,” she said. “Will you just set here all quiet while I step up and see what he wants?” “Yes, go. Don’t mind me,” replied Mrs. Broadcloth, affably. The housekeeper opened the door into the hall, closed it carefully behind her, and went up to Mr. Delaney’s room. To her surprise, although it was barely six o’clock, he had retired to bed. There was a feverish flush on his face, and his dark eyes gleamed restlessly. “Oh, Mr. Delaney, you are ill,” she exclaimed. “Hardly that,” he replied, with a forced smile; “but I am certainly somewhat the worse for the wetting I received this morning.” “Oh, sir, you should see a physician!” she exclaimed, alarmed at his feverish looks. “No; the last one did me harm enough by his long tongue,” Mr. Delaney answered, angrily. “I will have nothing of the kind. I need no one--I shall be all right in the morning.” She saw that persistence would only irritate him, and dropped the subject. “Can I do nothing for you?” she inquired, anxiously. “No; I have myself taken some drops that will soon cool my fever. I shall not take any supper; but, after a while, you may bring me a cup of tea--nothing else.” She beat a hasty retreat, sorry for his sickness, but reflecting that it stood her in good stead at this particular time, when her loneliness had led her into such imprudence as admitting a human being under the tabooed portals of Delaney House.