of habits; and, though the coarse character of the mouth remained, in some degree, unaltered, it was so modified in expression, that it could no longer be accounted a blemish.  In fact, the whole face had undergone a transformation.  All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed.  What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow’s countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her.

“Well, Mrs. Sheppard,” said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; “what brings you to town, eh?—­Nothing amiss, I trust?”

“Nothing whatever, Sir,” answered the widow.  “A neighbour offered me a drive to Paddington; and, as I haven’t heard of my son for some time, I couldn’t resist the temptation of stepping on to inquire after him, and to thank you for your great goodness to us both, I’ve brought a little garden-stuff and a few new-laid eggs for you, Ma’am,” she added turning to Mrs. Wood, who appeared to be collecting her energies for a terrible explosion, “in the hope that they may prove acceptable.  Here’s a nosegay for you, my love,” she continued, opening her basket, and presenting a fragrant bunch of flowers to Winifred, “if your mother will allow me to give it you.”

“Don’t touch it, Winny!” screamed Mrs. Wood, “it may be poisoned.”

“I’m not afraid, mother,” said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet.  “How sweet these roses are!  Shall I put them into water?”

“Put them where they came from,” replied Mrs. Wood, severely, “and go to bed.”

“But, mother, mayn’t I sit up to see whether Thames returns?” implored Winifred.

“What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child,” rejoined Mrs. Wood, sharply.  “I’ve spoken.  And my word’s law—­with you, at least,” she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband.

The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew.

Mrs. Sheppard, who witnessed this occurrence with dismay, looked timorously at Wood, in expectation of some hint being given as to the course she had better pursue; but, receiving none, for the carpenter was too much agitated to attend to her, she ventured to express a fear that she was intruding.

“Intruding!” echoed Mrs. Wood; “to be sure you are!  I wonder how you dare show your face in this house, hussy!”

“I thought you sent for me, Ma’am,” replied the widow, humbly.

“So I did,” retorted Mrs. Wood; “and I did so to see how far your effrontery would carry you.”

“I’m sure I’m very sorry.  I hope I haven’t given any unintentional offence?” said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood.