I must tell my brother; I'd rather go out for a charwoman and starve myself to a skeleton, than try to borrow more money.' Mrs.Matchwell advanced her face towards the widow's tearful countenance, and held her in the spell of her dreadful gaze as a cat does a bird.
'Why, curse you, woman, do you think 'tis to rob you I mean?
--'tisn't a present even--only a loan.

Stop that blubbering, you great old mouth! or I'll have you posted all over the town in five minutes.

A _loan_, Madam; and you need not pay it for three months--three whole months--_there_!' Well, this time it ended as heretofore--poor Mrs.Mack gave way.

She had not a crown-piece, indeed, that she could call her own; but M.M.

was obliging, and let her off for a bill of exchange, the nature of which, to her dying day, the unhappy widow could never comprehend, although it caused her considerable affliction some short time subsequently.
Away went Mary Matchwell with her prize, leaving an odour of brandy behind her.