Frank met her as she went in. It was dark; but she kept her veil down.  
"Oh, mamma, that's the most horrible man!" he began, in a whisper. "You know the cheese you brought in on Saturday, that we might not eat our bread quite dry; well, he has eaten it up, every , and half a loaf of bread! And he has burnt the whole scuttleful of coal! And he swore because there was no meat; and he swore at us because we would not go to the public-house and buy him some beer. He said we were to buy it and pay for it."
 
"I said you would not allow us to go, mamma," interrupted William, who now came up. "I told him that if he wanted beer he must go and get it for himself. I civilly, you know, not rudely. He went into such a passion, and said such things! It is a good thing Jane was out."
 
"Where is Gar?" she asked.
 
"Gar was frightened at the man, and the tobacco-smoke made him sick, and he cried; and then he lay down on the floor, and went to sleep."
 
She felt sick. She drew her two boys into the parlour—dark there, except for the lamp in the road, which shone in. Pressing them in her arms, completely by the of her situation, she leaned her forehead upon William's shoulder, and burst once more into a most flood of tears.
 
They were alarmed. They cried with her. "Oh, mamma! what is it? Why don't you order the man to go away?"
 
"My boys, I must tell you; I cannot keep it from you," she . "That man is put here to remain, until I can pay the rent. If I cannot pay it, our things will be taken and sold."
 
William's pulses and heart alike beat, but he was silent, Frank spoke. "Whatever shall we do, mamma?"
 
"I do not know," she . "Perhaps God will help us. There is no one else to do it."
 
Patience came in, for about the sixth time, to see whether Jane had returned, and how the mission had sped. They called her into the cold, dark room. Jane gave her the history of the whole day, and Patience listened in .
 
"I cannot but believe that Thomas Ashley must have been mis-informed," said she, presently. "But that you are strangers in the place, I should say you had an enemy who may have gone to him with a tale that thee can pay, but will not. Still, even in that case, it would be unlike Thomas Ashley. He is a kind and a good man; not a harsh one."
 
"Mr. Dare told me he was expressly for Mr. Ashley."
 
"Well, I say that I cannot understand it," repeated Patience. "It is not like Thomas Ashley. I will give thee an instance of his and general character. There was a rented under him, living in a house of Thomas Ashley's. The baker got behind with his rent; other were more favoured than he; but he kept on at his trade, hoping times would mend. Year by year he failed in his rent—Thomas Ashley, mark thee, still paying him regularly for the bread supplied to his family. 'Why do you not stop his bread-money?' asked one, who knew of this, of Thomas Ashley. 'Because he is poor, and looks to my weekly money, with that of others, to buy his flour,' was Thomas Ashley's answer. Well, when he owed several years' rent, the baker died, and the widow was going to move. Anthony Dare hastened to Thomas Ashley. 'Which day shall I a upon the goods?' asked he. 'Not at all,' replied Thomas Ashley. And he went to the widow, and told her the rent was forgiven, and the goods were her own, to take with her when she left. That is Thomas Ashley."
 
Jane her head in thought. "Is Mr. Lynn at home?" she asked. "I should like to speak to him."
 
"He has had his tea and gone back to the manufactory, but he will be home soon after eight. I will keep Jane till bedtime. She and Anna are happy over their puzzles."
 
"Patience, am I obliged to find that man in food?"
 
"That thee art. It is the law."
 
The noise made by Patience in going away, brought the man from the study, a candle in his hand. "When is that mother of yours coming back?" he roared out to the boys. Jane advanced. "Oh, you are here!" he uttered, wrathfully. "What are you going to give me to eat and drink? A pretty thing this is, to have an officer in, and starve him!"
 
"You shall have tea directly. You shall have what we have," she answered, in a low tone.
 
The kettle was boiling on the study fire. Jane lighted a fire in the parlour, and sent Frank out for butter. The man smoked over the study fire, as he had done all the afternoon, and Gar slept beside him on the floor, but William went now and brought the child away. Jane sent the man his tea in, and the loaf and butter.
 
The fare did not please him. He came to the parlour and said he must have meat; he had had none for his dinner.
 
"I cannot give it you," replied Jane. "We are eating dry toast and bread, as you may see. I sent butter to you."
 
He stood there for some minutes, giving to his feelings in rather strong language; and then he went back to revenge himself upon the butter for the want of meat. Jane laid her hand upon her beating throat: beating with its .
 
Between eight and nine Jane went to the next door. Samuel Lynn had come home for the evening, and was sitting at the table in his parlour, the two little girls with a puzzle, which had baffled their skill. He was a little man, quiet in movement, pale and in feature, dry and unsympathising in manner.
 
"Thee art in trouble, friend, I hear," he said, placing a chair for Jane, whilst Patience came and called the children away. "It is sad for thee."
 
"In great trouble," answered Jane. "I came in to ask if you would serve me in my trouble. I fancy perhaps you can do so if you will."
 
"In what way, friend?"
 
"Would you interest yourself for me with Mr. Ashley? He might listen to you. Were he assured that the money would be forthcoming in February, I think he might agree to give me time."
 
"Friend, I cannot do this," was the reply of the Quaker. "My relations with Thomas Ashley are confined to business matters, and I cannot overstep them. To with his private affairs would not be seemly; neither might he deem it so. I am but his servant, remember."
 
The words fell upon her heart as ice. She believed it her only chance—some one for her with Mr. Ashley. She said so.
 
"Why not go to him thyself, friend?"
 
"Would he hear me?" hastily asked Jane. "I am a stranger to him."
 
"Thee art his . As to hearing thee, that he certainly would. Thomas Ashley is of a nature. The poorest workman in our manufactory, going to the master with a , is sure of a patient hearing. But if thee ask me would he grant thy petition, there I cannot inform thee. Patience opines that thee, or thy intentions, may have been falsely represented to him. I never knew him resort to harsh measures before."
 
"When would be the best time to see him? Is it too late to-night?"
 
"To-night would not be a likely time, friend, to trouble him. He has not long returned from a day's journey, and is, no doubt, cold and tired. I met James Meeking driving down as I came home; he had left the master at his house. They have been out on business connected with the manufactory. Thee might see him in the morning, at his breakfast hour."
 
Jane rose and thanked the Quaker. "I will certainly go," she said.
 
"There is no need to say to him that I suggested it to thee, friend. Go as of thy own accord."
 
Jane went home with her little girl. Their visitor looked out at the study door, and began a battle about supper. It ought to comprise, in his opinion, meat and beer. He insisted that one of the boys should go out for beer. Jane refused. She was to tell him that the children of a gentleman were not despatched to public-houses on such errands. She offered him the money to go and get some for himself.
 
It aroused his anger. He accused her of wanting to get him out of the house by , that she might lock him out; and he flung the pence back amongst them. Janey screamed, and Gar burst out crying. As Patience had said, he was not a pleasant . Jane ran upstairs, and the children followed her.
 
"Where is he to sleep?" inquired William.
 
It is a positive fact that, until that moment, Jane had forgotten all about the sleeping. Of course he must sleep there, though she had not thought of it. Amidst the poor in her father's parish in London, Jane had seen many phases of distress; but with this particular she had never been brought into contact. However, it had to be done.
 
What a night that was for her! She paced her room nearly throughout it, with quiet movement, Janey sleeping placidly—now giving way to all the dark appearances of her position, to uncontrollable despondency; now kneeling and crying for help in her heartfelt .
 
Morning came; the black frost had gone, and the sun shone. After breakfast Jane put on her shawl and ^{<............}