That woman, since her dismissal after my brother's death, has never really quit this neighborhood.

She worked next door in any capacity she could, whenever any of the tenants would take her; and when they would not, sewed or served in the houses near by till finally she set up a shop directly opposite its very door.

But she'll never get these bonds; we shall pay her what is her due, but she'll never get any more." "That would make her out a thief," I cried, "or--" but I thought better of uttering what was in my mind.

Instead I asked how they first came to hear of her.
Miss Charity showed some flustration at this and cast her sister an appealing look; but Miss Thankful, eying her with some severity, answered me with becoming candor: "She was a lodger in this house.

We kept a few lodgers in those days--be still, Charity! Just thank God those days are over." "A lodger ?" I repeated.