never took no time to get ready to die. Jesus, can you love even me?"

There was no answer in words, but a new and satisfied look came into
the poor, hungry eyes; a moment later, and the sick and dying woman
had dropped asleep.




CHAPTER IV.

TOBY.


Quite early in that same long morning, before little Maurice had
even opened his sleepy eyes, the woman whom Mrs. D'Albert called Aunt
Lydia arrived. She was a large, stout woman with a face made very red
and rough from constant exposure to the weather. She did not live in
London, but worked as housekeeper on a farm down in Kent. This woman
was not the least like Mrs. D'Albert, who was pale, and rather
refined in her expression. Aunt Lydia had never been married, and her
life seemed to have hardened her, for not only was her face rough and
coarse in texture, but her voice, and also, it is to be regretted,
her mind appeared to partake of the same quality. She came noisily
into the quiet room where Cecile had been tending her stepmother; she
spoke in a loud tone, and appeared quite unconcerned at the very
manifest danger of the sister she had come to see; she also instantly
took the management of everything, and ordered Cecile out of the room.

"There is no use in having children like _that_ about," she