She did so.

She had been out of a situation for two months, and her scant means were almost exhausted, when Ah Fe's unexpected treasure was tossed into her lap.
The gray fog deepened into night, and the street lamps started into shivering life as, absorbed in these unprofitable memories, Mrs.
Tretherick still sat drearily at her window.

Even Carry had slipped away unnoticed; and her abrupt entrance with the damp evening paper in her hand roused Mrs.Tretherick, and brought her back to an active realization of the present.

For Mrs.Tretherick was wont to scan the advertisements in the faint hope of finding some avenue of employment--she knew not what--open to her needs; and Carry had noted this habit.
Mrs.Tretherick mechanically closed the shutters, lit the lights, and opened the paper.

Her eye fell instinctively on the following paragraph in the telegraphic column: FIDDLETOWN, 7th .-- Mr.James Tretherick, an old resident of this place, died last night of delirium tremens.