"It would in a general way, of course, but I have tried it in one or two instances with marked success. Some of the women seemed literally so steeped in dirt, that it was perfectly useless to preach to them about the beauty of cleanliness. They had no longer an ideal of order and purity, so all exhortations were in vain. At length, I hit on the brilliant expedient of getting their houses once thoroughly cleaned for them, and it 'took' amazingly. They saw the miracle that soap and water could work; and, in most instances, they were stimulated to keep up the improvement by their own exertions. Of course, I should never do it again save in case of illness. "Ah! Aunt Dora," Hope broke off suddenly, "I know what a burden my household cares were when I was weak and ill, so I can heartily sympathize with these poor creatures. I believe their uncleanly habits often commence with ill-health. They have not the strength to set things to rights, and so they go on from bad to worse, and then, as Mrs. Bill says, they get clean discouraged.""

"It's a comfort she can get clean anything," I said, perpetrating a pun for the first time in my life. Hope laughed.

"Aunt Dora, you, who look down from the heights of Mrs. Oldershaw and her satellites, can't be expected to sympathize with us work-a-day folks. You don't know how difficult it is for poor people to be clean. It's dreadful to go into their steamy dwellings on washing-days. One of our castles in the air' is the erection of Baths and Washhouses for the Factory. We mean to build them when our ship comes in," Hope ended with a laugh.

"Do you, my dear ?" I said. And then for the second time I went off into a brown study.

CHAPTER XVII.

I was very busy during the latter part of my visit. Hope could not imagine why I was always starting on mysterious errands into the city which, as I do not care to excite the curiosity of my readers, I will explain at once, were visits of business to my lawyer and others, on the subject of a transfer of part of my substance to my nephew—not for his personal use, but for the benefit of the factory. I wished to purchase a convenient site for the erection of a Working Man's Institute, which was to contain reading and recreation rooms, as well as airy, wellventilated class-rooms. This was the first part of my scheme. The second was the erection of "Baths and Washhouses" in the neighbourhood of the "Jolly Dogs," to which

I hoped my edifice would prove a formidable rival. The men would certainly find their homes more attractive in the evenings if their wives availed themselves of my commodious laundries, where the linen could be washed and dried in the day-time, so that the tired husbands need not be greeted on their return home by the odours of soap-suds and the clammy fumes of the wash-tubs. In order to make the necessary arrangements for my scheme, I had of course to spend many mornings in Mr. Furnival's office. Architects had to be consulted, estimates had to be considered, sites had to be found, and, last but not least, the consent of my trustees had to be obtained to permit of the sale of part of my property, which was necessary for the production of the large sum required. I should have had some scruples of conscience about this reduction of my income, and the consequent crippling of my powers to help the needy in my own parish, had it not been for Mr. Vernon's bequest. When his will was opened, it was to every one's astonishment found that he had left all his personal

property to "my best friend-Dora Grey." This supplied me with ample means for the satisfaction of all the wants of Woodbury, leaving unfettered my small remaining income, so that I could still keep pace with all Agatha's social requirements. For I always consider it a grievous error to indulge one's charitable "hobbies," as my uncle used to call them, at the expense of other people's comfort. Therefore, my dear friend's bequest turned out to be of more solid comfort to me than I had anticipated at the time; and in death, as in life, his thoughtful consideration was making my path plain and simple. Maurice and I had. many talks together about our beloved friend; but Hope had not yet learnt to let his name pass from her faltering lips. I think she had hardly yet said from the depths of her heart, "Thy will be done." Once she tried to tell me of Mr. Vernon's visit to her, but the recital was drowned in tears. Her life was full and satisfied. No wife, no mother had ever been blessed with tenderer joys. Yet in Hope's heart there