96 Turnaside Cottage.

time to time and did a hand’s turn at the washing,
or baking, or whatever most wanted doing. I was
grateful, but Nance received them grumpily enough;
and though she was always telling me that I did
not half do things, I could hear her tell them that
the boy did well enough, and she did not want any
interfering. I believe I owed this help to Tommy,
for his grandmother was the first of the neighbours
who came in. Tommy himself hardly ever failed
to look in some time in the day. Altogcther, but
for old Nance’s failing strength, it was not a bad
time. My father was much away, and I had many
a quiet half-hour of reading while Nance dozed in
the bed, and no sound but the singing of the kettle
disturbed us.

I had not realised that Nance was dying, until
one morning when she called to me—for I had
brought down my bed and made it up in the back-
place—to make her a cup of tea, for she felt sink-
ing; and while I did so, she kept repeating, “I’m
not long for this world; I’m not long for this
world.”

“Qh, Nance!” I said, “are you prepared to die?”

“T have never done any harm,” said Nance;
“Pve worked hard all my life, and kept the house
and things in order—I don’t know no more I ought
to ha’ done. I hope God won’t be hard on me.”