"Yes," replied Mrs. Lethbridge; "and my husband's gone to the public-house as usual!"
"Ah, that's bad! Don't cry;" for Mrs. Lethbridge was beginning to shed tears again. "Crying never does any good, and it'll only make you ill. I'm sorry for your husband, Mrs. Lethbridge."
"Sorry!" she exclaimed, looking up in surprise, for many expressed blame, but few sorrow, for him who was the cause of all her heart-break. "Sorry!"
"Yes, indeed I am," said Mrs. Mugford.
"He used to be so different before he took to drink. You wouldn't think now he was the same man I married."
"He's wandered away from Christ's fold, but the Good Shepherd—Him your little maid talks about—He won't forget him; and one day I hope your husband will hear His voice," Mrs. Mugford said solemnly. "You must pray for him."
"Oh, I do, I do! But I can't help complaining, and I've no patience, and life does seem so hard!"
Mrs. Mugford nodded sympathetically, and then the neighbours sat down side by side, and indulged in a long, confidential chat; and by-and-bye Mrs. Lethbridge dried her eyes, and was comforted.
When Mrs. Mugford said good-night, it was after promising to "run in again one evening soon," and she went home with the knowledge that she had been allowed to help and cheer one heavy heart.