week. He has a payment to make up.'

This announcement made Mr. Barton thoughtful. He puffed more rapidly, and
looked at the fire.

'I think I must ask Hackit to lend me twenty pounds, for it is nearly two
months till Lady-day, and we can't give Woods our last shilling.'

'I hardly like you to ask Mr. Hackit, dear--he and Mrs. Hackit have been
so very kind to us; they have sent us so many things lately.'

'Then I must ask Oldinport. I'm going to write to him tomorrow morning,
for to tell him the arrangement I've been thinking of about having
service in the workhouse while the church is being enlarged. If he agrees
to attend service there once or twice, the other people will come. Net
the large fish, and you're sure to have the small fry.'

'I wish we could do without borrowing money, and yet I don't see how we
can. Poor Fred must have some new shoes; I couldn't let him go to Mrs.
Bond's yesterday because his toes were peeping out, dear child! and I
can't let him walk anywhere except in the garden. He must have a pair
before Sunday. Really, boots and shoes are the greatest trouble of my
life. Everything else one can turn and turn about, and make old look like
new; but there's no coaxing boots and shoes to look better than they
are.'

Mrs. Barton was playfully undervaluing her skill in metamorphosing boots
and shoes. She had at that moment on her feet a pair of slippers which
had long ago lived through the prunella phase of their existence, and
were now running a respectable career as black silk slippers, having been