"Matilda never said a word about it," said the peremptory Miss Saville; "she has a great deal of patience with you, poor thing; for you're an ill-tempered old woman! Be quiet, Sally, and listen to me. How would you like to be taken to a new house, and have all your little comforts attended to, and a room to yourself, and ladies to take care of you, eh? I would have charge of you, you understand, and this good young lady from the Hall, and others like her, would come every day to help me. What would you say to that, Sally?" The younger woman, with unequivocal tokens of interest, had drawn nearer to listen; and was standing leaning upon the table, with her face turned towards us. Sally did not answer at first, and I watched the eager gleam of her old bleared eyes, and the nodding of her palsied head in silence. "I don't knaew," said the old woman, "she'd be glad, I dare say; but am I agwoin to be put out of my way, to please Tilda? I'll not have no prison as long as my Jim has a roof over his head. I'm not agwoin to die. I wants to hear the news and the talk, as well as another. I wants none o' your fine rooms to lie all by myself, and never see nought but ladies--ladies! You're grand, and you think poor folks worship you; but I'd rather see old Betty Higgins to come and tell me the news." "If that is all you have to say, Sally, we had better leave you," said Miss Saville. "You shocking old woman, do you think you will live for ever? You'll soon get news from a worse place than this world, if you don't mind." "I'll send for the parson when I've made up my mind to it, that I'm agwoin to die," said Sally; "but here, give it to me, lady; don't give it to Tilda--she'll spend it on her own, and never think on the old woman. Well, you've a soft hand: where's your white bonnet and your white veil, and all your grandeur? What's the good of coming to poor folks all muffled up like madam there? You're no show, you're not--you should have come like a picture. Now, Tilda, get me some brandy and a drop o' tea, and tell Betty Higgins to come and sit by me while you're gone." I retreated with a shudder when she dropped my hand. Her cold touch sickened me, and I could not bear the sharp twinkling of those half-closed eyes, and the palsied motion of her head, as she looked into my face, and spoke to me. I was very glad to escape from the cottage when poor 'Tilda, a subdued, broken-hearted woman, not very tasty, went away to execute her commission. I was very much shocked on the borders of my new enterprise, very much disgusted, and almost staggered in my purpose. Yes! I had thought of nursing the sick and taking care of the aged; but I did not think of such sordid, selfish, wretched old age as this.