“Forgiven!” repeated Magdalen. “If other women wanted as little forgiving as you do—Well! well! Suppose you open some of these parcels. Come! I want to see what you have been buying to-day.”
Mrs. Wragge hesitated, sighed penitently, considered a little, stretched out her hand timidly toward one of the parcels, thought of the supernatural warning, and shrank back from her own purchases with a desperate exertion of self-control.
“Open this one.” said Magdalen, to encourage her: “what is it?”
Mrs. Wragge's faded blue eyes began to brighten dimly, in spite of her remorse; but she self-denyingly shook her head. The master-passion of shopping might claim his own again—but the ghost was not laid yet.
“Did you get it at a bargain?” asked Magdalen, confidentially.
“Dirt cheap!” cried poor
