"Go along about your business, you idle, good-fornothing girl. How dare you beg of us? A great strapping wench like you! Ar'nt you ashamed of yourself? Why don't you try and gain an honest livelihood?"

"So I do," answered the girl pouting; "if I was'nt honest should I give the lady back her pockethandkerchief, that she dropped down yonder?" (at the same time handing the article in question to Mrs. Becket, who had hitherto been unconscious of her loss). "You'll excuse me, Ma'am, but we always like to be in the fashion; should'nt I tell mother to take the lace off her caps, and stitch it round her muckingers? and is'nt it an honest livelihood I'm getting when I sell my nosegays to the quality who come and see the old place here?"

"Why do'nt you go to service?" asked Mr. Livingstone, rather puzzled what to say next, but prefering any course rather bestowing an alms.

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Ha! ha! me go to service? well, that is a good 'un! why don't you know that the world's grown so fine that there are no servants to be had but ladies' maids? and I never could abide my needle; no, not I."

"Poor thing!" said Mrs. Becket soothingly, “I fear you are not fit for service. What's your name, my good girl?"

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'My name! you do'nt suppose, do you, that if my parents had'nt been too poor to give me one, I should be hanging about here all day, instead of sitting in the parlour ?"

"Come along, aunt," said Mr. Livingstone, "you see it's no good talking to her, she's as mad as Bedlam ;" and giving his arm to Mrs. Becket, he walked

on.

"So you wo'nt give me anything, wo'nt you? Well, I must wear the old bonnet a little longer," continued the girl, keeping close at their side. "But we must return good for evil,—always good for evil, as the mistress used to say when she rapped my knuckles at school; so if you wo'nt give me any thing, I'll give you something: there, there's a nosegay for you, there's a marygold to suit your complexion, and some old man to perfume ye;" and suiting the action to the word, the damsel thrust her unrefined bouquet immediately under Mr. Livingstone's nose.

"I tell you what," cried that gentleman, in a towering passion, "if you do'nt march off this moment, I'll lay this whip about your shoulders first, and then put you on the tread-mill."

"Nay, John, nay," said Aunt Amy imploringly; "do'nt speak so crossly to her, it will do no good."

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Oh, hang her, she's more rogue than fool, I

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see,” replied Mr. Livingstone; we must get rid of

her somehow."

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I suppose you did of poor

Dick

"Yes, you're a good hand at getting rid of folks, we all know," exclaimed the girl with mingled bitterness and impertinence of manner; would like to get rid of me, as you Allen.....but you sha'nt though, I can tell you." And she turned away, and walked off with great rapidity.

Mr. Livingstone became very pale, but was silent: after a moment's pause, however, he mastered his agitation, and led Mrs. Becket rapidly onward to the gatehouse, where ringing at the bell, a wicket in the main door was opened by the old white headed porter, in his gown of black serge with a silver crossmoline on his left breast, and the aunt and nephew entered the Hospital.

25

CHAPTER II.

Hospitality at the Hospital.

"Some pigeons, Davy; a couple of short-legged hens; a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook."

SHAKSFERE.

THE Steward was not at home: this was the intelligence which the inquirers received at the door of his residence, and the person who afforded it was Dr. Clinton, the Warden of Berkingholt (as the Master of the Hospital was called), a gentleman personally known to Mr. Livingstone, and who informed him that he had himself just been seeking in vain for his official; courteously offering at the same time to be the bearer of any message to Mr. Stacey on his

return.

Whether Mr. Livingstone was obliged to the Warden for his good-nature is rather problematical;

D

but there was no opportunity of declining his offer, for Mrs. Becket at once desired to be introduced to him, and then without more ado, and in her simple way, declared the object of her visit to St. Swithun's.

Dr. Clinton assured her that he would send the Steward over to her present residence the very next day; and then went on to tell her with what pleasure he heard of her contemplated intention of hiring Fairfield Court, and the delight it would afford to their common friends the Flemyngs.

"You know, I dare say," continued Dr. Clinton, "that Beatrice Flemyng is to me as another daughter; that my Mary and she have been like sisters from their childhood; and that in point of fact, Beatrice is with me the greater portion of the year, except in winter, when her brother Henry keeps open house at Beaulieu, and at this time, when she joins her aunt, Lady Lacy, in town for the London season."

"Dear me!" exclaimed Aunt Amy, "how strange it does seem that anybody can tear themselves away from such a lovely, quiet spot, for the smoke, and racket, and turmoil of London! I am sure if I lived here, I should never care to stir beyond the walls.”

"You are acquainted with our old Hospital, then," asked the Warden.

"No, I never was here till to-day."