"Orphan Asylum, eh?" repeated the disappointed Pall, as his vision of the costly casket pattern faded away; "pine coffin, of course—no satin lining or silver nails—no carriages—night burial, Potters' Field, etc.
"'Lie in the dust,
We all must.'
"Tell the afflicted matron of the Orphan Asylum that I will send up directly and take the deceased child's measure."
And Pall flourished his white handkerchief as long as was consistent with the demise of a charity orphan, and the small sum invested in the pine coffin.
CHAPTER VII.
It was the day for the committee to make their stated visit of examination at the Asylum. Timmins had swept the school-room floor very carefully, scoured off the black-board, dusted the benches, and placed a bunch of flowers on Mrs. Markham's desk, just as that lady entered on her tour of inspection.
"How on earth came that green trash on my desk?" asked the offended matron.