not give you a drop; so go about your business, and don't come
plaguing us here." Mrs. Flail, who happened to be in the yard,
with one of her children who was feeding the chickens, overheard
enough of this to make her come forward, and enquire what was the
matter. "Nothing, ma"am," replied the milk-maid, "only I was
sending away this nasty dirty creature, who was so bold as to come
asking for milk indeed! But beggars grow so impudent now-a-days
there never was the like of it." "Oh fie!" returned Mrs. Flail,
shocked at her inhuman way of speaking, "fie upon you, to speak in
so unkind a manner of a poor creature in distress." Then turning
to the beggar, she inquired what she wanted, in so mild a tone of
voice, that it encouraged her to speak and tell her distress.

'Mrs. Flail listened with the greatest attention, and could not
help being struck with her speech and appearance; for though she
was clothed in rags (having parted with all her better clothes to
pay for lodging and food) still there was a something in her
language and manner which discovered that she was no common
beggar. Betsy had stood all the time with her eyes fixed upon the
ground, scarcely once lifting them to look at the face of Mrs.
Flail; and she was so changed herself by her troubles and
sickness, that it was impossible for any one who had ever seen
Miss Speedgo, to recollect her in her present miserable state.
Mrs. Flail, however, wanted no farther inducement to relieve her
than to hear she was in want. "Every fellow-creature in
distress," she used to say, "was a proper object of her bounty;
and whilst she was blessed with plenty she thought it her duty to
relieve, as far as she prudently could, all whom she knew to be in
need." She therefore fetched a mug, and, filling it with milk
herself, gave it to the poor woman to drink. "Here," said she,