Alice Wilson, coming home from her half-day's work at some
tradesman's house. Mary and Alice had always liked each other;
indeed, Alice looked with particular interest on the motherless
girl, the daughter of her whose forgiving kiss had comforted her in
many sleepless hours. So there was a warm greeting between the tidy
old woman and the blooming young work-girl; and then Alice ventured
to ask if she would come in and take her tea with her that very
evening.

"You'll think it dull enough to come just to sit with an old woman
like me, but there's a tidy young lass as lives in the floor above,
who does plain work, and now and then a bit in your own line, Mary;
she's grand-daughter to old Job Legh, a spinner, and a good girl she
is. Do come, Mary! I've a terrible wish to make you known to each
other. She's a genteel-looking lass, too."

At the beginning of this speech Mary had feared the intended visitor
was to be no other than Alice's nephew; but Alice was too
delicate-minded to plan a meeting, even for her dear Jem, when one
would have been an unwilling party; and Mary, relieved from her
apprehension by the conclusion, gladly agreed to come. How busy
Alice felt! it was not often she had any one to tea; and now her
sense of the duties of a hostess were almost too much for her. She
made haste home, and lighted the unwilling fire, borrowing a pair of
bellows to make it burn the faster. For herself she was always
patient; she let the coals take their time. Then she put on her
pattens, and went to fill her kettle at the pump in the next court,
and on her way she borrowed a cup; of odd saucers she had plenty,
serving as plates when occasion required. Half an ounce of tea and
a quarter of a pound of butter went far to absorb her morning's