the thick voice of a drunkard, without moving.
"Eighteenpence; it's all they'd give me."
The woman cursed in her throat, but exhibited no anger with Pennyloaf.
"Go an' get some tea an' milk," she said, after a pause. "There is sugar. An' bring seven o' coals; there's only a dust."
She pointed to a deal box which stood by the hearth. Pennyloaf went out again.
Over the fireplace, the stained wall bore certain singular ornaments. These were five coloured cards, such as are signed by one who takes a pledge of total abstinence; each presented the signature, "Maria Candy," and it was noticeable that at each progressive date the handwriting had become more unsteady. Yes, five times had Maria Candy "promised, with the help of God, to abstain," &c. &c.; each time she was in earnest. But it appeared that the help of God availed little against the views of one Mrs. Green, who kept the beer-shop in Rosoman Street, once Mrs. Peckover's, and who could on no account
