the bottom coals, and at the top her bread and basin of oatmeal, her
frying-pan, teapot, and a small tin saucepan, which served as a
kettle, as well as for cooking the delicate little messes of broth
which Alice was sometimes able to manufacture for a sick neighbour.

After her walk she felt chilly and weary, and was busy trying to
light her fire with the damp coals, and half-green sticks, when Mary
knocked.

"Come in," said Alice, remembering, however, that she had barred the
door for the night, and hastening to make it possible for any one to
come in.

"Is that you, Mary Barton?" exclaimed she, as the light from the
candle streamed on the girl's face. "How you are grown since I used
to see you at my brother's! Come in, lass, come in."

"Please," said Mary, almost breathless, "mother says you're to come
to tea, and bring your cup and saucer, for George and Jane Wilson is
with us, and the twins, and Jem. And you're to make haste, please!"

"I'm sure it's very neighbourly and kind in your mother, and I'll
come, with many thanks. Stay, Mary, has your mother got any nettles
for spring drink? If she hasn't, I'll take her some."

"No, I don't think she has."

Mary ran off like a hare to fulfil what, to a girl of thirteen, fond
of power, was the more interesting part of her errand--the money-
spending part. And well and ably did she perform her business,