"Why, no, not to say know them. They are great ladies, you see, and I am but a seaman's widow, keeping a shop for laces and small wares in Newcastle. But they have been in my shop, so that I know them well by sight. My dears," she added, abruptly changing the subject, as she pulled out from her bag—which seemed to have no bottom—a couple of bulky parcels, "just see! I have ventured to bring the lady of the house—I don't know what to call her—" "The mother superior," said I. "Well, I have taken the liberty, not knowing exactly what she would like, to bring her a parcel of coffee and loaf sugar. Do you think she would be offended at the liberty?" "No, indeed!" said I. "Dear mother is never offended when any one wishes to please her, and I am very glad you have brought the things. Sister Lazarus was saying only yesterday how much she wished she had some coffee to tempt Mother Superior, for she hardly eats anything at all." "Then I am in the nick of time; but, excuse me, my dears, why did not Sister Lazarus—it seems a queer name for a woman—why did not she send and buy some coffee, if the lady wished for it. When a delicate person takes a fancy for some particular thing to eat, 'tis always best to supply it at once, before they change their minds." "She would have been glad to do so, but she had no money, I believe," I answered. "We are a very poor community nowadays. I heard Mother Bursar say she should have no more money till she sold her oil." "Lack-a-day, poor thing! But in that case methinks I would sell some of those grand vases and things I saw in the church," said Mrs. Thorpe with decision. "However, that is no business of mine. I am glad you think the things won't come amiss. And is the poor lady very ill?" "Father Brousseau thinks she will never be well!" said Amabel sadly. "Poor thing! But no doubt she is prepared to go, and the change will be a blessed one. From what you say, I should think she must be a good Christian according to her lights, and a man is accepted according to what he hath, and not according to what he hath not." Amabel and I looked at each other surprised and half offended, while the good woman talked on, unconscious of offence, asking many questions and making many shrewd remarks. We left her at last to rest a little before supper, and retired by ourselves to compare notes on our new acquaintance. "Well, what do you think about her?" I asked. "I like her," said Amabel with decision. "She is not like our sisters here, of course, but I think she is good and kind." "Yes, it was nice in her to bring mother the coffee and sugar, and to give us these things," said I, examining the pretty and convenient "equipages" for the pocket which Mrs. Thorpe had presented to us. "But I did not like the way she spoke about dear mother."