"No, no, thank ye, sir; I can't go to the hospital, I can't leave
these poor children; they've no father nor mother, sir, and no one to
do for them but me."

"What do you live on, then?" said Richard, looking round the desolate
hut.

"On Sam's wages, sir; that's that boy. He is a good boy to me, sir,
and his little sisters; he brings it, all he gets, home to me,
rig'lar, but 'tis but six shillings a week, and they makes 'em take
half of it out in goods and beer, which is a bad thing for a boy like
him, sir."

"How old are you, Sam?"

Sam scratched his head, and answered nothing. His grandmother knew
he was the age of her black bonnet, and as he looked about fifteen,
Ethel honoured him and the bonnet accordingly, while Richard said he
must be very glad to be able to maintain them all, at his age, and,
promising to try to bring his father that way, since prescribing at
second hand for such curious symptoms was more than could be
expected, he took his leave.

"A wretched place," said Richard, looking round. "I don't know what
help there is for the people. There's no one to do any thing for
them, and it is of no use to tell them to come to church when it it
so far off, and there is so little room for them."

"It is miserable," said Ethel; and all her thoughts during her last
walk thither began to rush over her again, not effaced, but rather