never give you a stitch of work, so help--"

Mrs. Jarvis did not pause to hear the concluding words of the
sentence.

"What _shall_ I do?" was the almost despairing question that she
asked of herself, as she hurried towards her home. On entering the
house she made no remark, for there was no one to whom she could
tell her troubles and disappointment, with even the most feeble hope
of a word of comfort.

"Does Mr. Jarvis live here?" asked a rough voice at the door.

"Yes, sir," was the reply.

"Well, here is a barrel of flour and some groceries for him."

"There must be some mistake, sir."

"Is not this Mr. Jarvis's?"

"Yes."

"And number 40?"

"Yes."

"Then this is the place, for that was the direction given me."

"Yes, this is the place--bring them in," spoke up Jarvis, in an