"Yes, I suppose so. I really wish he would, for that cough quite wears on me." "I know some one who subscribes to the Warley Hospital: I could get him an in-letter for there, I feel sure, if he would care to go." "Do you really!"--quite eagerly. "I should be glad if he could be got there! I shouldn't like to tell him to go, it would seem cruel, but I'm sure I can't stand that cough much longer." "Well, go up at once and ask him," suggested Bessie. "I will, there can be no harm in that," and away Mrs. Coates went. There was quite a different look on her face when she returned. "No, he won't go," shaking her head, "couldn't move him!--says that when his money's all gone, he'll go into the workhouse; I needn't be frightened about being kept out of my money--as if I was thinking of that! But there, that's all I get for all my trouble! You might give your life for some folks, and they wouldn't give you even a nod in return, not they!" Mrs. Coates was evidently feeling very annoyed. "Yes," exclaimed Bessie, "he's just one of that sort"--and then suddenly added, "at least, I should think so, from what you say." Bessie could think of no other suggestion to make, but went away determined to think out some other plan for getting Mrs. Coates' lodger out of Hadley. The next time Mrs. Coates had an interview with her lodger, he suddenly asked: "Who was that woman who wanted to get me packed off to Warley?" "Mrs. Jones," was the curt answer. "And who's Mrs. Jones?" "A very nice woman," turning round quite fiercely towards him, "a very nice young woman indeed, and I can't see why you shouldn't be willing to let her do you a kindness--that I can't!" "Perhaps not," he replied, "but you haven't told me yet who she is. There are heaps of Mrs. Jones." "She used to live with Mrs. Waring; she's the daughter of Mr. Marchant, the chemist. I wish you'd let me ask Mrs. Waring to come and see you," exclaimed Mrs. Coates, not giving "Richard Wood" time to reply, the very mention of Phebe's name bringing, what she thought, a bright idea into her head; "she would be sure to know what was the best thing for you to do! I always take all my troubles to her." "Look here, woman!" exclaimed the lodger angrily, "don't bring that friend of yours here, for I will not see her. Please remember that." "But she is a good woman." "Is she!"--with a sneer. "Yes, she is--a very good woman!" "Then why did her husband have to leave her?--Yes, I know her just as well as you do, perhaps better." "You know nothing bad about her, that I'm certain," replied Mrs. Coates, raising her voice to quite an angry pitch; "you should ask, 'What sort of a sneak was her husband to leave such a woman?'--that's what you should ask." "So that is how she talks about her husband, is it?" "No, it isn't. I've never heard her mention him, so there. But I won't have you say one word against my Mrs. Waring. So I tell you!" And Mrs. Coates left the room for fear her tears should be seen.