old Mabel, striking her stick on the hearth.

"You are a poor, benighted creature, and I hope God will pity you on
the score of your ignorance," said one of the well-meaning ladies.

"I hope he will, misses, I hope he will," she said, humbly.

"We had some things for you; but, of course, we cannot leave them now;
the papists must take care of their own poor--_we_ have enough of our
own," observed one.

"Thank'ee, misses."

"Downright impudence!" they muttered, flouncing out to their carriage,
without seeing May, who had taken refuge behind the bed, which was hung
round with some faded patchwork, to keep out air.

"And so you're bearing testimony for Christ already, Aunt Mabel," said
May, coming towards her with outstretched hands.

"Bless your dear face, honey, it seems best for me. I ben so long
without sarving God, that I shall 'quire all the help I can get in this
world and the next. Them ladies, honey, is well-meaning, I reckon.
They 'tended me a little while last winter, but they wanted to send me
out yonder--I wouldn't go; I'm mighty poor and helpless, Miss May, and
was friendless then, but I couldn't go thar!"

"Where, Aunt Mabel?"

"To the poor-house, my child. But, honey, arter you went away