Jim Blewett's landlady had been a kind friend to them ever since, two years ago, she had by chance learnt to know of the hard-working widow and her children. Many a time Mrs. Metherell had sent a dainty dish to tempt the little invalid's appetite; and on rare occasions, as on the present, she had paid a visit to the family, but never before had she invited one to her home. How deeply Mrs. Blundell appreciated her kindness to Maggie only one in her position can realise, and Mrs. Metherell herself would have been surprised and much gratified could she have known the intense pleasure which the anticipation of her party was giving in at least one humble home.
[CHAPTER V]
PREPARING FOR MRS. METHERELL'S PARTY
IT was getting late by the time Mrs. Metherell arrived at home, for she had had a good bit of shopping to do, which had taken her longer than she had anticipated. As she was going upstairs a voice called to her:
"Is that you, Mrs. Metherell?"
"Yes, sir."
"Come in here a minute, will you, please?"
There was an eager note in Jim Blewett's voice as he spoke, and as Mrs. Metherell stepped into his sitting-room she cast an astonished glance around. An empty hamper was on the floor, whilst the table was strewn with what had been its contents—a turkey, some sausages, a plum pudding in a mould, a large cake, a couple of pounds of butter, a tin of clotted cream, and half-a-dozen pairs of hand-knitted socks.
"You see the folks at home have not forgotten me," Jim remarked smilingly. "I've had a hamper from my sister-in-law. She says—" referring to a letter in his hand—"that the pudding is sufficiently boiled, and only wants warming through. She knitted the socks herself. Aren't they capital?"
Mrs. Metherell took up the articles and examined them approvingly, whilst her lodger went on: