the tea like an obedient child, allowed a poultice to be applied to
her aching chest and uttered no protest when a fire was kindled in
the rarely used grate; but as Mrs. Hawkins bent over to "settle"
her pillows she raised herself on her elbow to whisper: "Oh, Mrs.
Hawkins, Mrs. Hochmuller warn't there." The tears rolled down her
cheeks.

"She warn't there? Has she moved?"

"Over two months ago--and they don't know where she's gone.
Oh what'll I do, Mrs. Hawkins?"

"There, there, Miss Bunner. You lay still and don't fret.
I'll ask Mr. Hawkins soon as ever he comes home."

Ann Eliza murmured her gratitude, and Mrs. Hawkins, bending
down, kissed her on the forehead. "Don't you fret," she repeated,
in the voice with which she soothed her children.

For over a week Ann Eliza lay in bed, faithfully nursed by her
two neighbours, while the weak-eyed child, and the pale sewing girl
who had helped to finish Evelina's wedding dress, took turns in
minding the shop. Every morning, when her friends appeared, Ann
Eliza lifted her head to ask: "Is there a letter?" and at their
gentle negative sank back in silence. Mrs. Hawkins, for several
days, spoke no more of her promise to consult her husband as to the
best way of tracing Mrs. Hochmuller; and dread of fresh
disappointment kept Ann Eliza from bringing up the subject.

But the following Sunday evening, as she sat for the first