We were wondering what had become of her when she made her appearance laden with everything she could think of for our comfort.

The bed, she assured us, could not be damp, as it had been 'to the fire' all the previous day, and she insisted on putting on a pair of her own sheets, coarse but beautifully white, and fetching from another room additional blankets, which in their turn had to be subjected to 'airing,' or 'firing' rather.

To the best of her ability she provided us with toilet requisites, apologising, poor thing, for the absence of what we 'of course, must be used to,'-- as she expressed it, in the shape of fine towels, perfumed soap, and so on.

And she ended by cooking us a rasher of bacon and poached eggs for supper, all the materials for which refection she had brought from her own cottage.

She was so kind that I shrank from suggesting to Mary the objection to the proposed arrangement, which was all this time looming darkly before me.