her, which she said she didn't really feel to need, thanking them all the same, and they unfolded their plan. And then after all Mrs. Doveton wouldn't!
"It's very kind of you, miss, I'm sure," she said, "and offering to make a home for the boy and all, but I couldn't do justice to it—no, I couldn't. All them stairs, and the dining-room all that way from the kitchen, and no hot water laid on to the sink. No, there isn't, miss, for I looked; only one tap besides the rain-water, which is a convenience, of course, but no good for greasy plates and pans. Twenty years ago I don't say. But I'm too old for it now, miss, again thanking you kindly."
She spoke with her usual gentle monotony. And when she had finished speaking she sat and stroked her smooth old wrinkled knuckly hands with the worn wedding-ring on one, and sailor's silver ring with two hands joined over a heart on the other, and looked out on the lawn where the cedars were.
"But you said you'd like to be where there was a garden," said Jane.
"A bit of garden," she said gently, but very firmly, "not grounds."
"And you'd have two maids, you know, to do all the housework, and help in the washing-up and all that."
"That settles it then," said Mrs, Doveton unexpectedly. "I was just wondering whether I couldn't make a shift to do for you till winter come on, with grates and coals and that, if you could shut up most of the rooms; but with two girls to look after, and girls what they are nowadays, keeping out of work as long as they can and living on Mr. Lord Joyge's bounty—no, miss, no—not for a king's hansom, I wouldn't."
"Oh dear," said Jane, "and we thought it would be so nice for you! And now we shan't be living at Hope Cottage, what will you do? You said the other day it's so hard to get work. What will you do?"
"Providence will provide, miss," said Mrs. Doveton. "It
