"Cobbler" Horn started, and a huge blot fell from his pen into the midst of his half-finished letter. "I'm afraid I shall not be able to send this, now," he said, with a patient sigh. "No," said Miss Jemima, laconically, "I'm afraid not. You are writing to the 'widow,' I see; and you are promising her some help. That's very well. But, in nine cases out of ten, what strangers say of themselves requires confirmation--especially if they are beggars; so don't you think that, before sending money to this 'widow,' it would be as well to ask for the name of some reliable person who will vouch for the truth of her statements? You must not forget, what you often say, you know, that you are the steward of your Lord's goods." This was an argument which was sure to prevail with "Cobbler" Horn. "No doubt you are right, Jemima," he said; "and, however reluctantly, I must take your advice." "That's right," said Miss Jemima. "You haven't answered the other letters?" she then asked, with a glance over the table. "No." "Well, hadn't you better put them away now, and get to your work? After breakfast you must get a new pen and a fresh bottle of ink. Then we'll see what we can do together." In an emergency which demanded the exercise of the practical good sense, of which she had so large a share, Miss Jemima regained, to some extent, her old ascendency over her brother. He quietly gathered up his letters, and, placing them on the chimney-piece, retired to his workshop. At breakfast-time Miss Jemima's prognostication began to receive fulfilment in the arrival of the postman with another batch of letters. This time the number had increased to something like a dozen. Having received them from the hands of the postman, "Cobbler" Horn carried them towards his sister with a somewhat comical air of dismay. "So many!" exclaimed she. "Your cares are accumulating fast. You will have to engage a secretary. Well, we'll look at them by and bye." Scarcely was breakfast over than there came a modest knock at the door, which, on being opened by Miss Jemima, revealed the presence of the elder of the little twin hucksters, who still carried on business across the way. Miss Jemima drew herself up like a sentry; and little Tommy Dudgeon, finding himself confronted by this formidable lady, would have beaten a hasty retreat. But it was too late. "I beg your pardon, ma'am," he began humbly; "I came to see your brother." "I don't know," was the lady's lofty reply. "My brother has much business on hand." "No doubt, ma'am; but--but--" At this point "Cobbler" Horn himself came to the door, and Miss Jemima retreated into the house. "Good morning, Tommy," said "Cobbler" Horn heartily, "step in." "Thank you, Mr. Horn," was the modest reply, "I'm afraid I can't. Business presses, you know. But I've just come to congratulate you if I may make so bold. Brother would have come too; but he's minding the twins. It's washing day, you see. He'll pay his respects another time."