It must be a fancy of her own disordered brain; but no--for when she gathered up her courage, and walked towards it, a woman she knew well started up, and, laughing wildly, cried out, "Ha! ha! Mary Thornton." "Ellen Lee ?" said Mary, aghast.
"That's me, dear," replied the other; "you're welcome, my love, welcome to the cold stones, and wet streets, and to hunger and drunkenness, and evil words, and the abomination of desolation.

That's what we all come to, my dear.

Is that his child ?" "Whose ?" said Mary.

"This is George Hawker's child." "Hush, my dear!" said the other; "we never mention his name in our society, you know.

This is his too--a far finer one than yours.