ago now. You don't fret. Good-night, ma'am!"

Lydia gave a groan, and Jane, outside the door, shook her own hand
at herself.

"Ain't I a hard-hearted wretch to see her like that and not try to
comfort? Well, I wonder if Jesus was there would He try a bit of
comforting? But I'm out of all patience. Such feeling for a child as
is dead and don't need it, and never a bit for a poor little living
child, who is, by the same token, as like that poor Mercy as two peas
is like each other."

Jane felt low-spirited for a minute or two, but by the time she
returned to the empty kitchen she began to cheer up.

"I did it well. I think I'll get the purse back," she said to herself.

She sat down, put out the light, and prepared to wait patiently.

For an hour there was absolute stillness, then there was a slight
stir in the little parlor. A moment later Lydia Purcell, candle in
hand, came out, on her way to her bedroom. Jane slipped off her
shoes, glided after her just far enough to see that she held a candle
in one hand and a brandy bottle in the other.

"God forgive me for driving her to it, but I had to get the purse,"
muttered Jane to herself. "I'm safe to get the purse now."