“Tawny Rachel” turned her sad eyes upon her interrogator, and made answer:-

“Going to? why where do you think I’m going to, but to Heaven?—­ ’Deed! where do you think I’m going to, but to Heaven?” she repeated to herself slowly, as if to recover breath; and then added, “I should like to know who Heaven is for, if not for such as me, that have slaved all their lives through, for other folk;” and so saying, Tawny Rachel turned round again, and went away.

Poor “Tawny Rachel!” The theology was imperfect enough; but so had been her education and advantages.  Yet as surely as her scrupulous, never-failing honesty, and unmurmuring self-denial, must have been inspired by something beyond human teaching; so surely did it prove no difficult task to her spiritual guide, to lead her onwards to those simple verities of the Christian Faith, which, in her case, seemed to solve the riddle of a weary, unsatisfactory life, and, confiding in which, the approach of death really became to her, the advent of the Prince of Peace.

* * *

“But she had quite cheered up,” remarked No. 3, “at the notion of something comforting and good,” and so—­he had “come off at once.”

“At once!”—­the exclamation came from Aunt Judy, who had entered the room, and was listening to the account.  “Why, No. 3, you must have been there an hour at least.  And nevertheless I dare say you have forgotten about the Doctor.”

“The Doctor!” cried No. 3, laughing,—­“It’s the Doctor who has kept me all this time.  You never heard such fun in your life,—­only he’s an awful old rascal, I must say!”

Mamma and Aunt Judy gazed at No. 3 in bewilderment.  The respectable old village practitioner, who had superintended all the deceases in the place for nearly half a century—­to be called “an awful old rascal” at last!  What could No. 3 be thinking of?

Certainly not of the respectable village practitioner, as he soon explained, by describing the arrival at Tawny Rachel’s cottage of a travelling quack with a long white beard.

“My dear No. 3!” exclaimed mamma.

“Mother, dear, I can’t help it!” cried No. 3, and proceeded to relate that while he was sitting with the old woman, listening to the account of her aches and pains, some one looked in at the door, and asked if she wanted anything; but, before she could speak, remarked how ill she seemed, and said he could give her something to do her good.  “Judy!” added No. 3, breaking suddenly off; “he looked just like Dr. Faustus, I’m sure!”

“Never mind about that,” cried Aunt Judy.  “Tell us what Tawny Rachel said.”

“Oh, she called out that he must give it, if she was to have it, for she had nothing to pay for it with.  I had a shilling in my pocket, and was just going to offer it, when I recollected he would most likely do her more harm than good.  But the gentleman with the white beard walked in immediately, set his pack down on the table, and said, ‘Then, my good woman, I shall give it you;’ and out he brought a bottle, tasted it before he gave it to her, and promised her that it would cure her if she took it all.”