planter. Glorious visions of unlimited gin floated before the rheumy vision of what she had of a mind.
Mrs. Meeken has since, with some alcoholic suddenness, been taken to her mothers. The good sociologist can not regard the world as much the worse for her loss.
It was about six o'clock that evening, what time Pollyooly, unconscious of her doom, was peacefully washing the sleepy Lump before putting him to bed, that the Honorable John Ruffin became aware, chiefly through the medium of his olfactory nerve, of the presence of Mrs. Meeken waiting at his door, and gave a curt, but grudging, assent to her request for an interview. He led the way into his sitting-room, lighted the gas, and surveyed his visitor with an expression of considerable disfavor.
"If you please, sir, it's about that little gel what does your work, sir, that I've been wyting to speak to you, sir. It bein' only my plyne dooty, sir," said Mrs. Meeken.
"Your duty would be plain," said the Honorable John Ruffin, looking critically at Mrs. Meeken's ill-favored face.
"Yes, sir; it were; an' what I've come to tell yer,
