"She never did go to Sunday-school," put in Letty with her mouth full of bread and treacle, for they were late with the tea again, and she was very hungry. "I believe if I could only go again, I could get Annie to go with me. I was telling her the other day how kind my teacher was in bringing me books to read and coming to see me nearly every week, and I could see she wished somebody cared for her like that. But, you see, she lost her mother when she was a little girl, and her father never troubled about sending her to Sunday-school, for they used to clean the place up on a Sunday, and so she has never learned any better, poor girl." "You'll miss the Rutters, mother," remarked Chaplin rousing himself after a long silence. "Yes, that I shall," she replied with a sigh "I've known them so long—ever since we first came to live here. Why, the children used to go together to the Sunday-school, before they got on in the world and took to going so far away to church." "Did we, mother? I don't remember!" exclaimed Letty in some surprise. "No, I suppose not, and they don't want it remembered, I daresay. For it has changed them getting on in the world, and I don't believe Mrs. Rutter cared to have me think that she used to live next door to me at one time, and that I've helped her to the price of a loaf to get tea before Rutter came home. Ah! They were happier days for both of us, I believe, in spite of the houses they own and the good wages he makes." Chaplin did not seem inclined to talk to-night, and so he took no notice of what was said, but sat with his head in his hand and his elbow on the table, evidently pondering deeply over some matter that engaged his attention. "I don't know that the chaps are quite fair to Rutter," he said after a long silence, during which Mrs. Chaplin had been putting the tea things away. "What do you mean?" asked his wife, looking round from the cupboard in her surprise. "Well, about the way he makes his money. The fellows grumble and carry on, and threaten this and that, but what wants altering is the method on which we are paid. Labourers and foremen alike." Mrs. Chaplin frowned. "I wish you'd leave all that sort of thing alone," she said. Poor woman! She had such a horror of strikes, and for underpaid labourers to think of doing anything beyond a little occasional grumbling filled her with dismay. But Winny always had a word ready for any little family hitch of the kind. "Don't you think we might leave the matter in God's hands, mother?" she said. "Yes, yes, my dear, that is what I want your father to do," said Mrs. Chaplin a little impatiently. "But, you see, mother," began Chaplin. And then there came a tap at the door, and Annie Brown put her head in again. "Father's foot seems worse to-night," she said in an anxious tone. "I wish you would come and look at it, Mrs. Chaplin."