friends," remarked Mrs. Nancy Simmons, settling herself back in her
rocking-chair. "As she didn't own anything but the clothes on her back,
there won't be any quarreling over the property!" and she chuckled at
her delicate humor.

"No," answered her companion, who, whatever her sponsors in baptism had
christened her, called herself Ethel Montmorency. "I s'pose the
furniture, poor as it is, will pay the funeral expenses; and if she's
got any debts, why, folks will have to whistle for their money, that's
all."

"The only thing that worries me is the children," said Mrs. Simmons.

"You must be hard up for something to worry about, to take those young
ones on your mind. They ain't yours nor mine, and what's more, nobody
knows who they do belong to, and nobody cares. Soon as breakfast's over
we'll pack 'em off to some institution or other, and that'll be the end
of it. What did Flossy say about 'em, when you spoke to her yesterday?"

"I asked her what she wanted done with the young ones, and she said, 'Do
what you like with 'em, drat 'em,--it don't make no odds to me!' and
then she turned over and died. Those was the last words she spoke, dear
soul; but, Lor', she wasn't more'n half sober, and hadn't been for a
week."

"She was sober enough to keep her own counsel, I can tell you that,"
said the gentle Ethel. "I don't believe there's a living soul that knows
where those children came from;--not that anybody cares, now that there
ain't any money in 'em."