the hands of a girl—one of the most disreputable in the quarter," the stranger explained; adding, "I am the poor-law inspector of the district."
Mrs. Warden thanked him, although she did not at all like his appearance. But when she again looked round the room she was quite alarmed by the change which had taken place in its occupants.
The husband sat upright in the bed and glared at the fat gentleman, the wife's face wore an ugly smile, and even the poor wee cripple had scrambled towards the door, and resting on his lean arms, stared upward like a little animal.
And in all these eyes there was the same hate, the same aggressive defiance. Mrs. Warden felt as though she were now separated by an immense interval from the poor woman with whom she had just been talking so openly and confidentially.
"So that's the state you're in to-day, Martin," said the gentleman, in quite a different voice. "I thought you'd been in that affair last night. Never mind, they're coming for you this afternoon. It'll be a two months' business."
All of a sudden the torrent was let loose. The man and woman shouted each other down, the girl behind the stove came forward and joined in, the cripple shrieked and rolled about. It was impossible to distinguish the words; but what between voices, eyes, and hands, it seemed as though the stuffy little room must fly asunder with all the wild passion exploding in it.
Mrs. Warden turned pale and rose, the gentleman
