ABSTRACT
W H I L E these things were going on in my Lady Dowling’s morning drawing-room, the forgotten Martha-forgotten at least by all but little Michael-employed herself in seeking such a basket, as might answer the purpose of a viaticum between the object of her father’s charity, and the mother and brother of whom he had so fondly spoken. Having at length succeeded in her quest, she returned to the dining-room, and was almost as much disappointed at finding the object of her good-natured exertions flown, as the poor child himself had been, when obliged to quit the room to which this kind friend had promised to return. But Martha, though not a person very highly favoured by circumstances, was nevertheless better of? than Michael, inasmuch as by keeping out of sight she could pretty generally contrive to remain where she chose, and do what she liked. These enviable privileges enabled her now to sit down at one of the large open windows of the dining¬ room, and to draw from her unseemly-sized pocket, a volume of Shakspeare, with which she determined to beguile the time till the boy should return, or till by some means or other, she might be able to discover what had become of him.
