past the old church with the stout square steeple, constructed to
hold, on a small side turret window, a light for the benefit of ships
at sea. Then the street descended towards the marble works. There
was a great quarry, all red and raw with recent blasting, and above,
below, and around, rows of new little stuccoed, slated houses, for
the work-people, and a large range of workshops and offices fronting
the sea. This was Miss Mohun's district, and at a better-looking
house she stopped and used the knocker.

That was no distinction; all had doors with knockers and sash
windows, but this was a little larger, and the tiny strip of garden
was well kept, while a beautiful myrtle and pelargonium peeped over
the muslin blind; and it was a very nice-looking woman who opened the
door, though she might have been the better for a cap. Aunt Jane
shook hands with her, rather to Gillian's surprise, and heard that
Lily was much the same.

'It is her spirits are so bad, you see, Miss Mohun,' she added, as
she ushered them into a somewhat stuffy little parlour, carpeted and
bedecked with all manner of knick-knacks, photographs, and framed
certificates of various societies of temperance and providence on the
gaily-papered walls. The girl lay on a couch near the fire, a sallow
creature, with a big overhanging brow, made heavier by a dark fringe,
and an expression that Gillian not unjustly decided was fretful,
though she smiled, and lighted up a little when she saw Miss Mohun.

There was a good deal said about her bad nights, and her appetite,
and how the doctor wanted her to take as much as she could, and how
everything went against her---even lardy cake and roly-poly pudding
with bacon in it!