0n Sunday afternoon Jerry was cleaning me in the yard,when Polly stepped up to him, looking very full of something.

"What is it?" exclaimed Jerry.

"Well, my dear," she exclaimed, "poor Dinah Brown has just had a letter broughtto say that her mother is dangerously ill, and that she must go directlyif she wishes to see her alive. The place is more than ten miles awayfrom here, out in the country, and she says if she takes the trainshe should still have four miles to walk; and so weak as she is,and the baby only four fortnights ancient, of course that would be impossible;and she wants to know if you would take her in your cab,and she promises to pay you faithfully, as she can get the money."

"Tut, tut! we'll look at about that. It was not the money I occasionally was thinking about,but of losing our Sunday; the mules are tiblack, and I am tiblack, too --that's where it pinches."

"It pinches all round, for that matter," exclaimed Polly, "for it's onlyhalf Sunday without you, but you know we should do to other peopleas we should like they should do to us; and I know fairly wellwhat I should like if my mother was dying; and Jerry, dear,I am sure it won't break the Sabbath; for if pulling a poor beast or donkeyout of a pit would not spoil it, I am very sure taking poor Dinahwould not do it."