Mrs Lane rose in surprise, and took a step to meet her. Directly after, completely broken down, she was sobbing on the coarse, uneducated woman's neck; for she had seen at a glance that the money still lay upon the table by the empty purse--empty now, for the duplicate it had contained was gone--as, with a loving, sisterly movement, the cabman's wife slipped back upon her finger the ring she had been to redeem, and then, kissing her upon the forehead, whispered-- "My poor dear, what you must have suffered! Hush, hush! There, there!" said Mrs Jenkles, after a pause, with tears streaming down her own simple, honest face; and she patted and tried to soothe her forsaken sister as she would a child. "There, there, there; don't you cry too, my pretty," she said, as Netta flew to her, and kissed her on the cheek. "Come, come, come, we must hold up. There, that's better; now sit down." "And I said God had forsaken us in our distress," sobbed Mrs Lane. "I little thought what forms his angels took." "There, there, there," said Mrs Jenkles, wiping her eyes with a rapid motion; "if you talk like that you'll drive me away. I told Sam I'd come up to see, for I didn't know; and he is so easily led away, and I thought all sorts of things. But, bless and save us, he never told me half enough. There, there, wipe your eyes." As she spoke, with a delicacy for which one might not have given her credit, she turned her back, leaving mother and daughter sobbing in each other's arms, while she slipped the money back in the purse, and placed it on the chimney-piece. Her next act was to take off her bonnet and shawl, hang them behind the door, and take up Netta's work and chair, beginning to stitch away with a vigour that astonished the girl, as she tore herself away from her mother, and came to resume her toil. "No, no, my dear; I'll give you a rest while you see about a bit of dinner; for," she said, with a cheery smile, "you'll let me have a bit with you to-day, now, won't you? I'll try and earn it." The girl's tears were ready to flow again, but Mrs Jenkles's finger was shaken menacingly at her, and she turned to her mother, who rose, dried her eyes, and came and kissed the broad, smooth forehead. "God will bless you for this," she said, softly; and then the work went on once more, with such sunshine in the room as had not seemed to enter it for weeks. "Ah!" said Mrs Jenkles, as she bit off a fresh length of thread with her firm, white teeth. "Rents are dear up this part, I suppose." "I pay seven and sixpence a week for this and the back room," said Mrs Lane. "They'd be dear at half with such furniture," said Mrs Jenkles. There was another spell of sewing, when Mrs Lane said that she would see about the dinner; and then, as if reading Mrs Jenkles's thoughts-- "I don't like letting Netta go out alone." "And quite right, too, with her face," said Mrs Jenkles. "But she looks tired. You ought to walk out every day for an hour or two."