I need not detail the manner in which Katy's trade kept increasing. In a fortnight she had more than a dozen girls employed in selling candy. She was actually making a wholesale business of it, and no longer traveled about the streets herself. By the first of December, Mrs. Redburn had so far recovered her health as to be able to take charge of the manufacturing part of the business, and Katy was permitted to go to school, though she supplied the girls in the morning and at noon, and settled all their accounts.

One day she received a call from Michael, Mrs. Gordon's man, requesting her attendance in Temple Street. She obeyed the summons; but when she met Mrs. Gordon and Grace, she was alarmed to see how coldly and reproachfully they looked upon her.

"I have heard a very bad story about you, Katy," said Mrs. Gordon.

"About me?" gasped she.

"Yes; and I was very sorry to hear it."

"What was it, ma'am? I hope I haven't done anything to lose your good will."

"I am afraid you have."

"I don't believe she did it, mother," said Grace. "She is too good to do any such thing."

"What is it? Do tell me."

"I have been told that a little girl, who sells candy, has been playing tricks upon passers-by in the streets; that she tells lies and deceives them."

"I never did such a thing!" protested Katy, her cheeks covered with the blush of indignation.

Mrs. Gordon explained the deception, and spoke in very severe terms of it. The trick had been played off on a friend of hers, who had told of it the evening before.

"When was it, ma'am?" asked Katy.

"Yesterday forenoon."

"I was in school then. Besides, I haven't sold any candy in the street for more than three weeks."

"I knew it wasn't she!" exclaimed Grace triumphantly.

"I was very unwilling to believe it," added Mrs. Gordon; "but the description seemed to point you out as the little deceiver."

"I wouldn't do such a thing, ma'am. If you inquire you will find that I have been in school every day this week."

"I believe you, Katy. But can you tell me who it was?"

"I don't know, but I will find out;" and before she took her leave she told the ladies how she conducted her business, which amused them very much.

"Who played this trick?" said she to herself when she got into the street. "If I can only find out, I will discharge her. She will bring the business into contempt."

Of course no one would own it, and the only way she could find out was by watching them. It must be stopped, for, besides being too honest to allow such deception, Katy saw that it would spoil the trade.

When she got home, she found a letter which the penny-post had brought, directed to her in large schoolboy hand.

"It is from Tommy," exclaimed she, eagerly seizing the letter and retiring to a corner to read it.

"You and Tommy are great friends," said her mother.

"Yes, mother; but don't you see it came all the way from Liverpool?"

Mrs. Redburn sighed deeply at the mention of her native city, and a thousand memories of the past flitted before her. Katy broke the seal, and as this letter contained some very important information, my young readers may look over her shoulder while she reads it. It was as follows:—

Liverpool, Nov. 13, 1845.

"Dear Friend:—I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well, and I hope these few lines will find you enjoying the same blessing. I arrived to Liverpool safe and sound, and when I got home, I will tell you all about it. Just as we got in to the dock, I kept thinking about what you told me. They won't let us have any fires on board ship in the docks; so we all board ashore. I asked the man where we stopped if he knew such a merchant as Matthew Guthrie. He did not know him, and never heard of him. Then I went round among the big merchants, and asked about your grandfather. I asked a good many before I found one who knew him, and he said your grandfather had been dead ten years. I asked him where the family was. He said Mr. Guthrie had only two daughters; that one of them had run away with her father's clerk, and the other was married and gone to America. He said her husband belonged to Baltimore. This was all he knew about it, and all I could find out. We shall sail home in about three weeks. I thought you would like to know; so I wrote this letter to send by the steamer. Drop in and see my mother, and tell her I am well, and had a tiptop voyage over. No more at present from

"Your affectionate friend, "THOMAS HOWARD."

Katy read the letter twice over, and then gave it to her mother, after explaining that she had told Tommy her story, and requested him to inquire about her grandfather. Mrs. Redburn was too much affected by the news from her early home to find fault with Katy for what she had done.

Both of them felt very sad for while Mrs. Redburn thought of her father, who had lain in his grave ten years without her knowledge, Katy could not but mourn over the hopes which Tommy's letter had blasted.



CHAPTER XVI.

ANN GRIPPEN PLAYS TRICKS UPON TRAVELERS.

The next day was Wednesday, and as school kept but half a day, Katy resolved to spend the afternoon in finding out which of her employees was in the habit of practicing the deception which Mrs. Gordon had described to her. She could think of no one upon whom she could fasten the guilt, unless it was Ann Grippen, who, she thought, would be more likely to play such a trick than any other. After she had delivered their candy, she put on her things and followed the girls down to State Street, where they separated. Ann went up Court Street, and Katy decided that she needed watching, and so she followed her.

It was a very tedious afternoon to the little wholesale merchant, but the dignity of the trade depended upon her efforts in seeking the offender. Ann entered various shops, and seemed to be having very good luck with her stock. At last she appeared to grow tired of her labors, and turned into an alley. Katy wondered what she was going to do there, for it was certainly no place to sell candy. She waited sometime for her to come out, and when she heard her steps, she placed herself at the corner of the alley, in such a position that Ann could not see her face.

Presently she heard Ann crying with all her might; and crying so very naturally that she could hardly persuade herself that it was not real. She glanced over her shoulder at her, and discovered that she had broken the nice sticks of candy into a great many little pieces; and it was for this purpose that she had gone into the alley. Katy was indignant when she saw so much valuable merchandise thus ruthlessly mutilated, and the sale of it spoiled. She was disposed to present herself to the artful girl, and soundly lecture her for the deceit and wickedness: but she wanted to see how the game was played.

"Boo, hoo, hoo!" sobbed Ann Grippen, apparently suffering all the pangs of a broken heart, which could not possibly be repaired.

"What is the matter, little girl?" asked a benevolent lady, attracted by the distress of Ann.

"Boo, hoo, hoo!" cried Ann, unable to speak on account of the torrents of wo that overwhelmed her.

"Don't cry, little girl, and tell me what the matter is," continued the kind lady.

"Boo, hoo, hoo! I fell down and broke all my candy," sobbed Ann.

"Poor child!" exclaimed the sympathizing lady.

"My father'll beat me because I didn't sell it," added Ann.

"He is a cruel man. Are you sure he will punish you?"

"Yes, ma'am," groaned Ann. "He'll whip me almost to death if I don't bring home half a dollar."

"You can tell him you fell down and broke the candy," suggested the lady.

"He won't believe me; he'll say I sold the candy and spent the money. O, dear me."

"You can show him the pieces."

"Boo, hoo, hoo! Then he'll say I broke it on purpose, because I was too lazy to sell it; and then he'll kill me—I know he will."

"I will go and see him, and tell him about the accident. Where do you live?"

"Down North Square. He ain't to home now," replied Ann, who was not quite prepared for this method of treating the subject.

"Poor child! I pity you," sighed the lady.

"O, dear me!" cried Ann, exerting herself to the utmost to deepen the impression she had made.

"How much do you want to make up the value of your candy?"

"Half a dollar."

"There it is, poor child! If it will save you from abuse, you are welcome to it."

"Thank you, ma'am. It may save my life," replied Ann, as she took the half dollar and put it in her pocket.

"What an awful liar she is!" said Katy to herself, as the lady hurried on, probably much pleased with herself as she thought of the kind act she supposed she had done.

Katy was curious to know what her unworthy assistant would do next, and she followed her down Hanover Street, and saw her stop before the American House. She could not believe that Ann would have the hardihood to play off the same trick again so soon; and she was very much surprised and very indignant when she saw her begin to cry with all her might, just as she had done before. While the deceitful girl's eyes were covered with her apron, in the extremity of her grief, Katy contrived to get on the hotel steps behind her, so that she could see and hear all that passed.

"What is the matter with that girl?" asked a gentleman, who presently appeared at the door, addressing another who was just behind him.

"It is the broken candy dodge," replied the second gentleman. "That trick has been played off a dozen times within a week."

"What does it mean?" asked the first. "I don't understand it."

The second explained the trick, precisely as Katy had just witnessed it in Court Street.

"Now, don't say a word," he continued. "I have a counterfeit half dollar in my pocket, and you shall see how it is done."

With this announcement of his purpose, he accosted Ann, who told him about the same story she had told the lady, and he finally gave her the counterfeit half dollar, which Ann did not suspect was a bad one.

"How abominably wicked she is," exclaimed Katy, as she followed her up the street. "But I will soon spoil all her fun, and cut off her profits. I will teach her that honesty is the best policy."

It was easier for Katy to resolve what to do than it was to do it; for the wicked girl could easily get her stock through another person. As she walked up the street, Ann lightened her load by eating the pieces of broken candy, upon which she seemed to feed with hearty relish. At a window in Court Street, Ann stopped to look at some pictures, when she was joined by another of the candy sellers, and they walked together till they came to an unfrequented court, which they entered. Katy could hear enough of their conversation, as she followed them, to ascertain that they were talking about the tricks Ann had practiced. In the court they seated themselves on a door-stone, and as they talked and laughed about the deceit, they ate the pieces of candy.

"There," said Ann, "I have made a dollar and ten cents this afternoon. You don't catch me walking all over the city for twenty-four cents, when I don't get but eight of that."

"I ain't so smart as you," modestly replied Julia Morgan, the other girl.

"You'll learn," said Ann, as she took out her money and exhibited the two half dollars.

"I don't think people would believe me, if I should try that game."

"Try some other. I think I shall, for I've about used up the broken candy game."

"What other?"

"I have one," replied Ann, prudently declining to divulge her secret; "and when I've tried it, I'll tell you all about it."

"Why don't you try it now?"

"I would if my candy wasn't broken."

"I will let you have mine."

"Then I will."

"Give me fourteen cents."

"I will when I've done with it."

"No, you don't," laughed Julia, who justly inferred that if Ann would cheat one person, she would another.

But Ann was so much interested in the experiment that she decided to give the fourteen cents, and took the candy. Katy wondered what the new game could be, and wanted to see her carry it out, though her conscience smote her for permitting the lady to be deceived, when she could have unmasked the deceit. She resolved not to let another person be deceived, and followed the two girls into State Street, as much for the purpose of exposing Ann's wickedness, as to learn the trick she intended to play.

"Now you go away," said Ann to her companion, as she placed herself on the steps of the Merchants-Bank.

It was nearly dark by this time, and as there were but few persons in the street, Ann did not commence her part of the performance till she saw a well-dressed gentleman approach; whereupon she began to cry as she had done twice before that day.

"Boo, hoo, hoo! O, dear me! I shall be killed!" cried she, so lustily, that the well-dressed gentleman could not decently avoid inquiring the cause of her bitter sorrow.

"I haven't sold out," sobbed Ann.

"What if you haven't? Why need you cry about it?" asked the stranger.

"My mother will kill me if I go home without half a dollar."

"She is a cruel woman, then."

"Boo, hoo, hoo! She'll beat me to death! O, dear me! I only got ten cents."

"Why don't you fly round and sell your candy?" said the gentleman.

"I can't now, the folks have all gone, and it's almost dark. O, I wish I was dead!"

"Well, well, don't cry any more; I'll give you half a dollar, and that will make it all right;" and he put his hand in his pocket for the money.

"Don't give it to her," said Katy, stepping out of the lane by the side of the bank. "She has deceived you, sir."

"Deceived me, has she?" added the stranger as he glanced at Katy.

"Yes, sir. She has got more than a dollar in her pocket now."

"Don't you believe her," sobbed Ann, still prudently keeping up the appearance of grief.

"How do you know she has deceived me?" asked the stranger, not a little piqued, as he thought how readily he had credited the girl's story.

"Because I saw her play a trick just like this twice before this afternoon. She has two half dollars in her pocket now, though one of them is counterfeit."

"What do you mean by that, Katy Redburn?" demanded Ann, angrily, and now forgetting her woe and her tears.

"You speak very positively," said the gentleman to Katy; "and if what you say is true, something should be done about it."

"She is telling lies!" exclaimed Ann, much excited.

"We can soon determine, for here comes a policeman, and I will refer the matter to him."

At these words, Ann edged off the steps of the bank, and suddenly started off as fast as she could run, having, it seemed, a very wholesome aversion to policemen. But she made a bad mistake, for, not seeing in what direction the officer was approaching, she ran into the very jaws of the lion.

"Stop her!" shouted the gentleman.

The policeman laid a rude hand upon her shoulder, and marched her back to the bank. In a few words the gentleman stated what had happened, and requested the officer to search her, and thus decide whether Katy told the truth or not. He readily consented, and on turning out Ann's pocket, produced the two half dollars, one of which the gentleman decided was a counterfeit coin.

"How could you know this was a counterfeit?" he asked of Katy.

"I heard a gentleman at the door of the American House, who knew the game, tell another that it was a counterfeit;" and she proceeded to give all the particulars of the two tricks she had seen Ann play off.

"I shall have to take you to the lock-up, my little joker," said the policeman.

"O, dear me!" cried Ann, and this time she was in earnest.

"Please don't do that!" said Katy, who had not foreseen this consequence of the game.

"I must; it is downright swindling."

"Please don't; she has a father and mother and I dare say they will feel very bad about it. I promise you she shall never do it again," pleaded Katy.

"I must do my duty. This candy trick has been played a good many times, and has become a nuisance. I must lock her up."

"Save me, Katy, save me!" begged Ann terrified at the thought of being put in a prison or some dreadful place.

"Why do you wish to save her?" interposed the gentleman.

"Because her mother will feel so bad; and she will lay it all to me."

Katy told him all about herself and about Ann, and he was so much interested in her that he joined in pleading for Ann's release. The officer was firm for a long time, but when the gentleman declared that he should not appear against her, he decided to let her go, to Katy's great delight, as well as to Ann's.

Humbled by the peril from which she had just escaped, Ann promised never to be guilty of playing another trick upon travelers; but Katy was firm in her purpose not to supply her with any more candy. She did not dare to resent Katy's interference, for the terrors of the lock-up were still in her mind, and she did not know but that Katy might have her arrested and punished for what she had done, if she attempted to retaliate upon her.

Katy was shocked at the wickedness of her companion; and, as they walked home together she tried to make her see the enormity of her offense, and give her some better views of her duty to her fellow-beings. Ann heard her in silence and with humility, and the little moralist hoped the event would result in good to her.



CHAPTER XVII.

THE SUN SETS, AND THE NIGHT COMES ON.

Having recorded the steps by which Katy had carried forward her now flourishing trade, from the dawn of the idea up to the height of its prosperity, we may pass over a year with only a brief note of its principal incidents.

My young readers may have supposed that Katy and her mother had gathered a great deal of money in the candy trade. It was not so, for as the business increased, and Katy's labors as a saleswoman were withdrawn, the expenses increased, and the profits were proportionally less. And then, neither Mrs. Redburn nor her daughter had a faculty for saving up much money; so that, though they made considerable, their prosperity permitted new demands to be made upon the purse. They hired two more rooms; they replaced the clothing and furniture which had been sacrificed under the pressure of actual want, and they lived better than they had lived before; and Mrs. Redburn had availed herself of the services of a distinguished physician, whose attendance had cost a large sum. It is true they lived very well, much better than people in their circumstances ought to have lived. Therefore, notwithstanding their prosperity, they had saved but a small sum from the proceeds of the year's business. They were not rich; they were simply in comfortable circumstances, which, considering their situation when Katy commenced business, was quite enough to render them very thankful to the Giver of all good for the rich blessings He had bestowed upon them.

These were not all temporal blessings; if they had been, their success would only have been partial and temporary, their prosperity only an outward seeming, which, in the truest and highest sense, can hardly be called prosperity; no more than if a man should gain a thousand dollars worth of land, and lose a thousand dollars worth of stocks or merchandise. Both Katy and her mother, while they were gathering the treasures of this world, were also "laying up treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt." Want had taught them its hard lessons, and they had come out of the fiery furnace of affliction the wiser and the better for the severe ordeal. The mother's foolish pride had been rebuked, the daughter's true pride had been encouraged. They had learned that faith and patience are real supports in the hour of trial. The perilous life in the streets which Katy had led for a time, exposed her to a thousand temptations; and she and her mother thanked God that they had made her stronger and truer, as temptation resisted always makes the soul. That year of experience had given Katy a character; it expanded her views of life, and placed her in a situation where she was early called upon to decide between the right and the wrong; when she was required to select her path for life. She had chosen the good way, as Ann Grippen had chosen the evil way.

I do not mean to say her character was formed, or that having chosen to be good, she could not afterwards be evil. But the great experiences of life which generally come in more mature years, had been forced upon her while still a child; and nobly and truly had she taken up and borne the burden imposed upon her. As a child she had done the duties of the full-grown woman, and she had done them well. She had been faithful to herself.

Providence kindly ordains that the child shall serve a long apprenticeship before it is called upon to think and act for itself. Katy had anticipated the period of maturity, and with the untried soul of a child, had been compelled to grapple with its duties and its temptations. As her opportunities to be good and do good were increased, so was her liability to do wrong. She had her faults, great, grave faults, but she was truly endeavoring to overcome them.

Tommy had returned from his voyage to Liverpool, and joyous was the meeting between Katy and her sailor friend. It took him all the evenings for a week to tell the story of his voyage, to which Mrs. Redburn and her daughter listened with much satisfaction. He remained at home two months, and then departed on a voyage to the East Indies.

Master Simon Sneed, after Katy's attempt to serve him, did not tell her many more large stories about himself, for she understood him now, and knew that he was not half so great a man as he pretended to be. In the spring he obtained a situation in a small retail store where there was not a very wide field for the exercise of his splendid abilities. He had been idle all winter, and when he lamented his misfortunes to Katy, she always asked why he did not sell candy. Once she suggested that he should learn a trade, to which Master Simon always replied, that he was born to be a gentleman, and would never voluntarily demean himself by pursuing a degrading occupation. He was above being a mechanic, and he would never soil his hands with dirty work. Katy began to think he was really a fool. She could scarcely think him "poor and proud"; he was only poor and foolish.

At the close of Katy's first year in trade, a great misfortune befell her in the loss of Mrs. Colvin, her able assistant in the manufacturing department of the business. A worthy man, who owned a little farm in the country, tempted her with an offer of marriage, and her conscience (I suppose) would not let her refuse it. Katy, though she was a woman, so far as the duties and responsibilities of life were concerned, was still a child in her feelings and affections, and cried bitterly when they parted. The good woman was scarcely less affected, and made Katy and her mother promise an early visit to her farm.

Katy's sorrow at parting with her beloved friend was not the only, nor perhaps, the most important, result of Mrs. Colvin's departure, for they were deprived of the assistance of the chief candy-puller. Katy tried to secure another woman for this labor, but could not find a person who would serve her in this capacity. After a vain search, Mrs. Redburn thought she was able to do the work herself, for her health seemed to be pretty well established. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was quite as well that Mrs. Colvin had gone, for if she could pull the candy herself, it would save from two to three dollars a week.

Katy would not consent that she should do it alone, but agreed to divide the labor between them. The quantity manufactured every day was so great that the toil of making it fell heavily upon them; but as Mrs. Redburn did not complain, Katy was too proud to do so though her wrists and shoulders pained her severely every night after the work was done.

This toil weighed heavily on Katy's rather feeble constitution; but all her mother could say would not induce her to abandon the work. For a month they got along tolerably well, and, perhaps, no evil consequences would have followed this hard labor, if everything else had gone well with Katy. The girls who sold the candy had for some time caused her considerable trouble and anxiety. Very often they lost their money, or pretended to do so, and three or four of them had resorted to Ann Grippen's plan of playing "trick upon travelers." She had to discharge a great many, and to accept the services of those whom she did not know, and who, by various means, contrived to cheat her out of the money received from the sales of the candy. These things annoyed her very much, and she cast about her for a remedy.

One day, three girls, each of whom had been supplied with half a dollar's worth of candy, did not appear to account for the proceeds. Here was a loss of a dollar in one day. Such things as these are the common trials of business; but Katy who was so scrupulously honest and just herself, was severely tried by them. It was not the loss of the money only, but the dishonesty of the girls that annoyed her.

"What shall be done, mother?" said she, anxiously, when the loss was understood to be actual. "I can't find these girls. I don't even know their names."

"Probably, if you did find them, you could not obtain any satisfaction."

"I went to see one girl's mother the other day, you know, and she drove me out of her house, and called me vile names."

"I was thinking of a plan," continued Mrs. Redburn, "though I don't know as it would work well."

"Anything would work better than this being constantly cheated; for it is really worse for the girls than it is for us. I have often felt that those who cheat us are the real sufferers. I would a good deal rather be cheated than cheat myself."

"You are right, Katy; and that is a Christian view of the subject. I suppose we are in duty bound to keep these girls as honest as we can."

"What is your plan, mother?" asked Katy.

"We will sell them the candy, instead of employing them to sell it for us."

"But they won't pay us."

"Let them pay in advance. We will sell them the candy at eight cents a dozen. Any girl who wants two dozen sticks, must bring sixteen cents."

"I don't believe we can find any customers."

"We can try it. For a time, probably, the sales will be less."

"Very well, mother, we will try it; for I think it would be better to keep them honest, even if we don't sell more than half so much."

When the girls appeared the next morning to receive their stock, it was announced to them that the business would thereafter be conducted on a different basis; that they must pay for their candy before they got it, and thus become independent merchants themselves. Most of them were unable to comply with the terms, and begged hard to be trusted one day more. Katy was firm, for she saw that they would be more likely to be dishonest that day, to revenge themselves for the working of the new system.

The girls were not all dishonest, or even a majority of them, but the plan must be applied to all. Most of them went home, therefore, and shortly returned with money enough to buy one or two dozen sticks. As Mrs. Redburn had predicted, the effect of the adoption of the new plan was unfavorable for a few days. The obstinate ones would not buy, hoping to make the wholesale dealer go back to the old plan. After a week or two, however, they began to come back, one by one, and the trade rather increased than diminished; for many of the young merchants, having the responsibility of selling out all the stock imposed upon them, used greater exertion than before, and strong efforts almost always produced some success.

Thus the business went on very prosperously though Mrs. Redburn and Katy were obliged to work very hard—so hard that the former began to experience a return of her old complaint. The affectionate daughter was frightened when she first mentioned the fact, and begged her not to work any more.

"What shall I do, Katy?" asked she, with a smile.

"Let me make the candy," replied Katy. "I am strong enough."

"No, Katy, you are not. I am afraid you are injuring yourself now."

"I am sure I am not. But I can't bear to think of your being sick again."

"We must look out for our health, Katy; that ought to be the first of our earthly considerations."

"We ought, indeed, mother; so, if you please, I shall not let you pull any more candy."

"Shall I save my own health at the expense of yours?"

"I shall get along very well. I feel very strong."

"You are not very strong; I have reproached myself a great many times for letting you do so much as you have. I have felt the pain for a fortnight, and though I greatly fear I shall have a return of my complaint, I cannot let you do all this work. We are neither of us fit to perform such hard labor and both of us must be relieved from it. I shall go out to-morrow, and make a business of finding a person to do this work for us."

Mrs. Redburn did try, but she tried in vain. It was odd, queer strange work, as the women called it, and they didn't want to do anything of the kind. Katy proposed that they should employ a man; and when they finally found one, he was a stupid fellow, and they much preferred to do the work themselves, to seeing him daub the house all over with the candy, and leave it half done.

They persevered, however, in their efforts to find a person, and after trying half a dozen, who could not or would not do the work, they gave it up in despair. But not long were they permitted to struggle with the severe toil which their circumstances imposed upon them; for on the night before Christmas, when a large demand for candy was anticipated, and both of them had worked very hard, Mrs. Redburn fainted and fell upon the floor. It was in this manner that she had been taken at the commencement of her former long sickness, and to Katy the future looked dark and gloomy. But she did not give up. She applied herself, with all her energies, to the restoration of her mother; and when she was partially conscious, she attempted to conduct her to the bed. The poor woman's strength was all gone, and Katy was obliged to call in Mrs. Howard to assist her.

Mrs. Redburn suffered the most severe and racking pains through the night, and at about twelve o'clock, Katy went to Mr. Sneed's house, and calling up Simon, begged him to go for a doctor. But the physician's art seemed powerless to soothe her. All night long the devoted daughter, like an angel of mercy, hovered around the bed, and did all he could in vain attempts to ease the sufferer's pain.

Poor Katy! The sun of prosperity had set, and the night of adversity was coming on.



CHAPTER XVIII.

KATY STRUGGLES BRAVELY THROUGH A SERIES OF TRIALS.

The morning sun rose clear and bright, casting a flood of light into the chamber of the sick mother, watched over by the beloved child. It was Christmas, and all over the Christian world arose paeans of praise for the birth of the Saviour. The sufferer was conscious of the fact, and a sweet smile played upon her lips, as she thought of Jesus—that he had lived and died for her. Pain, that could rack the bones and triumph over the weak body, was powerless to subdue the loving, trusting spirit, that reposed gently on Him who has invited the weary to a present and an eternal rest.

"Katy," said Mrs. Redburn, in a faint whisper.

"I am here, mother," replied she, bending over her and endeavoring to anticipate her unspoken desire.

"Is the hymn book on the table?"

"Here it is, mother."

"Won't you read me a hymn?"

"What shall I read?" asked Katy, who could with difficulty keep back the flood of tears that rose up from her heart.

"'Come, said Jesus' sacred voice.'"

Katy opened the book to the beautiful hymn commencing with this line, and in a voice broken by the emotion she could not wholly control, she read it through. The smile that played on her mother's face showed how deep and pure was the consolation she derived from the touching poetry. She could smile while racking pains tortured her frame, while her frail body seemed hardly to retain its hold upon mortality. How blessed the hope that pours its heavenly balm into the wounds of the sufferer!

Poor Katy was painfully impressed by the appearance and conduct of her mother. She had never before seen her so calm and resigned to those dreadful sufferings. She had heard her complain and murmur at her hard lot, and wonder why she should be thus sorely afflicted. She feared that some appalling event, which she dared not define and call by its name, was about to happen. She dared not think of the future, and she wondered that her mother could be so calm while she endured so much.

"Katy," said Mrs. Redburn, after the long silence that followed the reading of the hymn, "I feel very weak and ill. Take my hand."

"You are burning up with fever!" exclaimed Katy, as she clasped the hand, and felt the burning, throbbing brow of her mother.

"I am; but do not be alarmed, Katy. Can you be very calm?"

"I will try."

"For I feel very sick, but I am very happy. I can almost believe that the triumph of faith has already begun in my soul. The world looks very dim to me."

"Nay, mother, don't say so."

"I only mean that as heaven seems nearer, my hold upon earth is less strong. You must be very resolute, my child, for I feel as though the sands of life were fast ebbing out; and that in a few hours more I shall be 'where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.' If it were not for leaving you, Katy, I could wish to bid farewell to earth, and go up to my eternal home, even on this bright, beautiful Christmas day."

"O mother!" sobbed Katy, unable any longer to restrain the expression of her emotion.

"Do not weep, my child; I may be mistaken; yet I feel as though God was about to end my sufferings on earth, and I am willing to go."

"O, no, mother! It cannot be!" exclaimed Katy, gazing earnestly, through her tearful eyes, upon the pale but flushed cheek of the patient sufferer.

"I only wish to prepare you for the worst. I may get well; and for your sake, I have prayed that I may. And, Katy, I have never before felt prepared to leave this world, full of trial and sorrow as it has been for me. Whatever of woe, and want, and disappointment it has been my lot to confront, has been a blessing in disguise. I feel like a new creature. I feel reconciled to live or die, as God ordains."

"Do not look on the dark side, mother," sobbed Katy.

"Nay, child, I am looking on the bright side," returned Mrs. Redburn, faintly. "Everything looks bright to me now. Life looks bright, and I feel that I could be happy for many years with you, for you have been a good daughter. Death looks bright, for it is the portal of the temple eternal in the heavens, where is joy unspeakable. I am too weak to talk more, Katy; you may read me a chapter from the New Testament."

The devoted daughter obeyed this request, and she had scarcely finished the chapter before the girls came for their candy. She was unwilling to leave her mother alone even for a minute; so she sent one of them over to request the attendance of Mrs. Howard, and the good woman took her place by the side of the sufferer.

Katy, scarcely conscious what she was doing—for her heart was with her mother,—supplied each girl with her stock of candy, and received the money for it.

"You need not come to-morrow," she said to them, as they were departing.

"Not come!" exclaimed several. "What shall we do for candy?"

"We cannot make any now; my mother is very sick."

"I get my living by selling candy," said one of them. "I shan't have anything to pay my board if I can't sell candy."

"Poor Mary! I am sorry for you."

This girl was an orphan whose mother had recently died, and she had taken up the business of selling candy, which enabled her to pay fifty cents a week for her board, at the house of a poor widow. Katy knew her history, and felt very sad as she thought of her being deprived of the means of support.

"I don't know what I shall do," sighed Mary.

"I have to take care of my mother now, and shall not have time to make candy," said Katy.

"Do you mean to give up for good?" asked one of them.

"I don't know."

This question suggested some painful reflections to Katy. If they stopped making candy, she and her mother, as well as orphan Mary, would be deprived of the means of support. She trembled as she thought of the future, even when she looked forward only a few weeks. There was not more than ten dollars in the house, for they had but a short time before paid for their winter's coal, and at considerable expense largely replenished their wardrobes. The rent would be due in a week, and it would require more than half they had to pay it.

Katy was appalled as she thought of the low state of their purse, and dreaded lest some fearful calamity might again overtake them. It was plain to her that she could not give up her business, even for a week, without the danger of being again reduced to actual want. She therefore reversed her decision, and told the girls they might come as usual the next day.

When they had gone she shed a few bitter tears at the necessity which the circumstances imposed upon her of working while her heart revolted at the idea of being anywhere but at the bedside of her sick mother. Then she lamented that they had not dispensed with many articles of luxury while they had plenty of money, and saved more of it for such a sad time as the present. But it was of no use to repine; she had only to make the best of her situation.

Amid all these discouragements came a bright ray of sunshine—the brightest that could possibly have shone on the pathway of the weeping daughter.

Early in the forenoon came the physician who carefully examined his patient, speaking cheerfully and kindly to her all the while. The sufferer watched his expression very narrowly, as he bent over her and questioned her in regard to her pains. He looked very serious, which Mrs. Redburn interpreted as unfavorable to her recovery, not considering that he was engaged in profound thought, and therefore his countenance would naturally wear an earnest look. Presently she sent Katy to get her some drink, not because she wanted it, but to procure her absence for a short time.

"Do you think I shall get well?" asked Mrs. Redburn, as soon as the door closed behind Katy.

"A person who is very sick, is of course, always in danger, which may be more or less imminent," replied the doctor, with professional indirectness.

"I beg of you, doctor, do not conceal from me my true situation."

"I cannot foresee the result, my good woman."

"Do you think there is any hope for me?"

"Certainly there is."

"Tell me, I implore you, what you think of my case," pleaded the sufferer, in feeble tones. "I felt this morning that my end was very near."

"O, no; it is not so bad as that. I should say you had as many as five chances in ten to be on your feet in a fortnight."

"Do you think so?"

"I do not regard your case as a critical one."

"I wish you had told me so last night. It would have saved my poor child a very bitter pang."

"I was not aware that you thought yourself alarmingly sick, or I certainly should; for such an opinion on your part would do more to bring about a fatal result than could be counteracted by the most skilful treatment. A physician does not hold the issues of life and death; he can only assist nature, as the patient may by a cheerful view of his case. This is not your old complaint; you have taken cold, and have considerable fever; but I think it is a very hopeful case."

The return of Katy interrupted the conversation; but the doctor's opinion was immediately imparted to her, and it sent a thrill of joy to her heart.

"I was low-spirited this morning, Katy," said Mrs. Redburn, when the physician had gone. "I really felt as though my end was rapidly approaching. I am sorry I mentioned my thoughts to you."

"It was all for the best, I suppose," replied Katy.

But Mrs. Redburn was very sick; and even now the disease might have a fatal termination. The best of care would be required to restore her to health, and Katy was very anxious. Her mother was still suffering the most acute pain.

The doctor had left a prescription, and Katy was again obliged to call in Mrs. Howard while she went to the apothecary's to procure it; but the good woman declared she was glad to come, and would bring her work and stay all the forenoon. The medicine, when obtained, to some extent relieved the sufferer's pain.

As her presence was not required in the chamber, Katy went down-stairs to what she called the candy room. She had an hour or two to spare, and she put on the kettle with the intention of making a part of the next day's candy. She was nearly worn out by watching and anxiety, and not fit to perform such hard work; but weak and weary as she felt, her spirit was still earnest, and she resolutely commenced her labors.

At noon she had made half the quantity required. Mrs. Howard was then obliged to go home, and attend to her own family, for she had two children besides Tommy, who had not yet returned from the East Indies. Mrs. Redburn was very restless during the afternoon, and could not be left alone for more than a short time at once. Mrs. Howard had promised to come again in the evening, and make the rest of the candy; but Charley came home from school quite sick, seemingly threatened with the scarlet fever, so that she could not keep her promise. Mrs. Sneed, however, dropped in, and consented to remain for two hours, which enabled Katy to make the rest of the candy.

By this time the poor girl was completely worn out. Her resolute will, even, could no longer impart its strength to the body. Her mother worried sadly about her, and finally induced her to lie down on the bed by her side, on condition that she should be awakened in an hour. In this manner she obtained a few hours' sleep during the night; but these severe labors were a fearful task to be imposed upon a mere child.

The next day Mrs. Redburn, who could not fail to observe Katy's pale face and sunken eye, fretted so much about her that she was obliged to promise she would not attempt to make any more candy. Mrs. Howard's son was still very sick, so that she was unable to render much assistance. The rest of the neighbors, though kindly disposed, had their own families to care for, and could do very little for others.

With what slight aid her friends could afford, Katy struggled through a week, when Dr. Flynch appeared, and demanded the rent. There was but little more than money enough left to pay it, but Katy would not ask him for any indulgence, and paid him in full.

In a few days more the purse was empty. Katy's most dreaded hour had come. She had no money, and almost every day some new thing was required for her mother. But this time she had friends, and she determined to use them, as all true friends wish to be used in the day of sorrow and trial. After considerable debate with herself, she decided to apply to Mrs. Gordon for a loan of twenty dollars. She was still poor and proud, and she could not endure the thought of asking a loan, which might be regarded as a gift, or which, by her own inability to pay it, might virtually become such; therefore she proposed to present her father's silver watch as security for the payment of the debt.



CHAPTER XIX.

KATY RESORTS TO A LOAN.

Katy was not at all pleased with the mission which her duty seemed to impose upon her. Again she felt the crushing weight of poverty, and pride rose up to throw obstacles in her path. She was a child of twelve, and to ask a loan of twenty dollars, though she offered sufficient security for the payment of the debt, seemed like demanding a great deal of her friends—like inviting them to repose a vast amount of confidence in her ability and honesty. They would not want the watch; it would be of no value to them; and the more she considered the matter, the more like an act of charity appeared the favor she was about to ask.

More than once on her way to Temple Street did she stop short, resolved to get the money of some other person—the grocer, Mr. Sneed, or even of a pawnbroker; but as often she rebuked the pride that tormented her like a demon, and went forward again. She stood some time at Mrs. Gordon's door before she had the resolution to ring the bell.

"What right have I to be so proud?" said she, grasping the bell handle. "I must get this money, or my mother may suffer."

She rang with a force that must have astonished Michael, and led him to think some extraordinary character had arrived; for he ran to the door at full speed, and burst out into a violent fit of laughter, when he saw no one but the little candy merchant.

"Good morning, to you, Katy. Are you nervous this morning?" said he.

"Good morning, Michael. I am not very nervous."

"I thought you would pull down the bell," he added, good-naturedly.

"I didn't mean to, Michael; I hope you will excuse me if I did any harm."

"Not a bit of harm; but you're looking as sober as a deacon. What ails you, Katy?"

"I feel very sad, Michael; for my mother is very sick, and I don't know as she will ever get well."

"Indeed? I'm sorry to hear that of her;" and Michael, whatever he felt, looked very much concerned about Mrs. Redburn's health.

"Is Mrs. Gordon at home?"

"She isn't."

"Is Miss Grace?"

"Neither of them; they went to Baltimore ten days ago but I am expecting them back every day."

Katy's heart sank within her; for now that Mrs. Gordon was not at hand, she did not feel like asking any other person; and if the case had not been urgent, she would have been satisfied to return home, and regard the lady's absence as a sufficient excuse for not procuring the money.

"You want to see her very much?" asked Michael.

"Very much, indeed."

"Can I be of any service to you?"

"No, Michael."

"Perhaps I can, Katy."

"No, I'm much obliged to you."

"If it's anything in the house you want, I can get it for you."

"No, I must see Mrs. Gordon."

"If it's any nice preserve or jelly you want just say the word, and I'll bring it to you at once."

"I do not want anything of that kind. Do you think Mrs. Gordon will return by to-morrow?"

"I thought she would be here yesterday, and she may come to-night."

"Very well; I will, perhaps, call again to-morrow," and she turned to leave.

"I'll tell Mrs. Gordon you came. Stop a minute, Katy. Won't you tell me what you want?"

"I would rather not, Michael; but I will come again to-morrow."

"See here, Katy; maybe you're short of money. If you are, I have a matter of three hundred dollars in the Savings Bank; and you may be sure you shall have every cent of it if you want it."

This was a very liberal offer, though it is probable he did not think she would want any considerable portion of it, or that she could even comprehend the meaning of so large a sum. Katy was sorely tempted to negotiate with him for the loan but she was not sure that it would be proper to borrow money of the servant, and perhaps Mrs. Gordon would not like it.

"I thank you, Michael; you are very kind, but I think I would rather see Mrs. Gordon."

"I have a matter of five or six dollars in my pocket now; and it that'll be of any service to you, take it and welcome."

Katy stopped to think. A few dollars would be all that she needed before the return of Mrs. Gordon; and yet she did not feel like accepting it. What would the lady say on her return, when told that she had borrowed money of her servant? Yet the servant had a kind heart, and really desired to serve her. Was it not pride that prevented her from accepting his offer? Did she not feel too proud to place herself under obligations to the servant? She felt rebuked at her presumption; for what right had she to make such distinctions? If she had been a lady, like Mrs. Gordon, she might have been excusable for cherishing such pride; but she was a poor girl; she was actually in want.

"Michael, you are so good, that I will tell you my story," said she, conquering her repugnance.

"Just come in the house, then;" and he led her into the sitting-room; being, in the absence of the mistress, the lord and master of the mansion, and feeling quite at home in that position.

In a few words she explained to him her situation, though her rebellious pride caused her to paint the picture in somewhat brighter colors than the truth would justify. She stated her intention to borrow twenty dollars of Mrs. Gordon, and offer her the watch as security, at the same time exhibiting the cherished treasure.

"Now Michael, if you will lend me three dollars till Mrs. Gordon returns, I will pay you then, for I know she will let me have the money; or at least let me have enough to pay you," continued she, when she had finished her narrative.

"Indeed I will, Katy!" exclaimed he, promptly pulling out his wallet. "And if you will come at this time to-morrow, you shall have the whole twenty dollars."

"Thank you, Michael."

"There's six dollars; take it, Katy, and my blessing with it."

"Only three dollars, Michael," replied Katy, firmly.

Michael insisted, but all his persuasion would not induce her to accept more than the sum she had mentioned, and he was reluctantly compelled to yield the point.

"Here is the watch, Michael; you shall keep that till I pay you."

"Is it me!" exclaimed he, springing to his feet, with an expression very like indignation on his countenance. "Sure, you don't think I'd take the watch."

"Why not you as well as Mrs. Gordon?" asked Katy.

"She didn't take it," replied Michael triumphantly. "You couldn't make her take it, if you try a month. Don't I know Mrs. Gordon?"

"But please to take it; I should feel much better if you would."

"Bad luck to me if I do! I wouldn't take it to save my neck from the gallows. Where's my Irish heart? Did I leave it at home, or did I bring it with me to America?"

"If you will not take it, Michael——"

"I won't."

"If you won't, I will say no more about it," replied Katy, as she returned the watch to her pocket. "You have got a very kind heart, and I shall never forget you as long as I live."

Katy, after glancing at the portrait of the roguish lady that hung in the room, took leave of Michael, and hastened home. On her way, she could not banish the generous servant from her mind. She could not understand why he should be so much interested in her as to offer the use of all he had; and she was obliged to attribute it all to the impulses of a kind heart. If she had been a little older, she might have concluded that the old maxim, slightly altered would explain the reason: "Like mistress, like man," that the atmosphere of kindness and charity that pervaded the house had inspired even the servants.

"Where have you been, Katy?" asked Mrs. Redburn, as she entered the sick chamber, and Mrs. Sneed hastened home.

"I have been to Mrs. Gordon."

"What for?"

Katy did not like to tell. She knew it would make her mother feel very unhappy to know that she had borrowed money of Mrs. Gordon's servant.

"Oh, I went up to see her," replied Katy.

"No matter, if you don't like to tell me," faintly replied Mrs. Redburn.

"I will tell you, mother," answered Katy, stung by the gentle rebuke contained in her mother's words.

"I suppose our money is all gone," sighed the sick woman.

"No, mother; see here! I have three dollars," and Katy pulled out her porte-monnaie, anxious to save her even a moment of uneasiness.

But in taking out the money she exhibited the watch also, which at once excited Mrs. Redburn's curiosity.

"What have you been doing with that, Katy?" she asked. "Ah, I fear I was right. We have no money! Our business is gone! Alas, we have nothing to hope for!"

"O, no, mother, it is not half so bad as that!" exclaimed Katy. "I went up to Mrs. Gordon for the purpose of borrowing twenty dollars of her; I didn't want it to look like charity, so I was going to ask her to keep the watch till it was paid. That's all, mother."

"And she refused?"

"No; she was not at home."

"But your money is not all gone?"

Katy wanted to say it was not, but her conscience would not let her practise deception. She had the three dollars which she had just borrowed of Michael, and that was not all gone. But this was not the question her mother asked, and it would be a lie to say the money was not all gone, when she fully understood the meaning of the question. Perhaps it was for her mother's good to deceive her; but she had been taught to feel that she had no right to do evil that good might follow.

"It was all gone, but I borrowed three dollars," she replied, after a little hesitation.

"Of whom?"

"Of Michael."

"Who's he?"

"Mrs. Gordon's man.

"O Katy! How could you do so?" sighed Mrs. Redburn.

"I couldn't help it, mother. He would make me take it;" and she gave all the particulars of her interview with Michael and reviewed the considerations which had induced her to accept the loan.

"Perhaps you are right, Katy. My pride would not have let me borrow of a servant; but it is wicked for me to cherish such a pride. I try very hard to banish it."

"Don't talk any more now, mother. We are too poor to be too proud to accept a favor of one who is in a humble station." replied Katy.

"I don't know what will become of us," said Mrs. Redburn, as she turned her head away to hide the tears that flooded her eyes.

Katy took up the Bible that lay by the bedside, and turning to the twenty-third psalm, she read, "The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters."

"Go on, Katy; those words are real comfort," said Mrs. Redburn, drying her tears. "I know it is wicked for me to repine."

Katy read the whole psalm, and followed it with others, which produced a healing influence upon her mother's mind, and she seemed to forget that the purse was empty, and that they had placed themselves under obligations to a servant.

The sufferer rested much better than usual that night, and Katy was permitted to sleep the greater part of the time—a boon which her exhausted frame very much needed. About ten o'clock in the forenoon, Michael paid her a visit, to inform her that Mrs. Gordon had just arrived: and that, when he mentioned her case, she had sent him down to request her immediate attendance and that his mistress would have come herself, only she was so much fatigued by her journey.

Katy could not leave then, for she had no one to stay with her mother; but Mrs. Sneed could come in an hour. Michael hastened home with the intelligence that Mrs. Redburn was better, and Katy soon followed him.



CHAPTER XX.

MRS. GORDON FEELS FAINT, AND KATY ENTERS A NEW SPHERE.

On her arrival at Temple Street, Katy was promptly admitted by Michael, and shown in the sitting-room, where Mrs. Gordon and Grace were waiting for her.

"I was very sorry to hear that your mother is sick, Katy," said the former; "and I should have paid you a visit, instead of sending for you, if I had not been so much exhausted by my journey from Baltimore."

"You are very kind, ma'am."

"Did Dr. Flynch call upon you at the first of the month?"

"Yes, ma'am; and we paid the rent as usual," replied Katy.

"I am sorry you did so, Katy; you should have told him you were not in a condition to pay the rent."

"I couldn't tell him so, he is so cold and cruel."

"I think you misjudge him, for he has a really kind heart, and would not have distressed you for all the world. Besides, I told him he need not collect your rent any time when you did not feel ready to pay it. I hope he gave you no trouble?"

"No, ma'am; I didn't give him a chance, for I paid him as soon as he demanded it; though it took nearly all the money we had. I hope you will excuse me, ma'am, but I haven't liked him since the trouble we had a year ago, when he accused my dear mother of telling a lie."

"Perhaps he was hasty."

"I forgive him, ma'am; but I can't help thinking he is a very wicked man," answered Katy, with considerable emphasis.

"I hope not so bad as that; for I am sure, if you had told him it was not convenient for you to pay the rent, he would not have insisted. But you want some assistance Katy?"

"Yes, ma'am; that is, I want to borrow some money," replied Katy, blushing deeply.

"That's just like you," interposed Grace, laughing. "I suppose you will want to give your note this time."

"I don't care about giving a note, but I mean to pay the money back again, every cent of it."

"And the interest too, I suppose?"

"Yes," said Katy, though she had not a very clear idea of the value of money, as an article of merchandise.

"Don't distress her, Grace; you forget that her mother is very sick, and she cannot feel like listening to your pleasantries," said Mrs. Gordon.

"Forgive me, Katy," replied Grace, tenderly.

Katy burst into tears, though she could not exactly tell why. She was overcome with emotion as the beautiful young lady took her hand, and looked so sorrowfully in her face. She was not used to so much kindness, so much sympathy, so much love; for it seemed as though both Grace and her mother loved her—that their hearts beat with hers.

"Don t cry, Katy; I am sorry I said a word," pleaded Grace. "I would not have hurt your feelings for all the world."

"You did not hurt my feelings; you are so kind to me that I could not help crying. I suppose I am very silly."

"No, you are not, Katy; now dry up your tears, and tell us all about it," added Mrs. Gordon, in soothing tones. "How long has your mother been sick?"

"Almost two weeks."

"What ails her?"

"She has got a fever; but she is much better to-day. The doctor says she hasn't got it very bad; but she has been very sick, I think."

"Who takes care of her?"

"I do, ma'am."

"You! She must need a great deal of attention. But who takes care of her at night?"

"I do, ma'am. I have been up a great deal every night."

"Poor child! It is enough to wear you out."

"I wouldn't mind it at all, if I had nothing else to trouble me."

"What other troubles have you?"

"I can't make any candy now, and haven't made any for nearly a fortnight; so that we have no money coming in. We spent nearly all we had in buying our winter clothing and fuel. It worries me very much, for we had plenty of money before mother was taken sick."

"I hope you haven't wanted for anything."

"No, ma'am; for when my purse was empty, I came up here, only yesterday, to borrow some of you, if you would please to lend it me."

"Certainly, I will, my child. I am very glad you came."

"Michael would make me tell what I wanted, and then he let me have three dollars, and offered to let me have as much as I wanted. I didn't know as you would like it if I borrowed money of your servant."

"You did just right: and I am glad that Michael has a kind heart. Now, how much money do you want?"

"I thought I would ask you to lend me twenty dollars; and just as soon, after mother gets well, as I can gather the money together, I will pay you—and the interest," she added, glancing at Grace.

"Now, Katy, that is too bad!" exclaimed Grace, catching her by the hand, while a tear started from her eye. "You know I didn't mean that."

"I know you didn't; but I don't know much about such things, and thought likely it was right for us to pay interest, if we borrowed money."

"I should be very glad to give you twenty dollars, Katy, if you would only let me; for I am rich, as well as mother, and I certainly should not think of taking interest."

"We will say no more about that," interrupted Mrs. Gordon. "I will let you have the money with the greatest pleasure, for I know you will make good use of it."

"I will, indeed."

"And you must promise me that you will not distress yourself to pay it again," continued the kind lady, as she took out her purse.

"I will not distress myself, but I will pay it as soon as I can."

"You must not be too proud."

"No, ma'am; but just proud enough."

"Yes, that's it," replied Mrs. Gordon, smiling. "Pride is a very good thing in its place. It keeps people from being mean and wicked sometimes."

"That's true pride," added Katy.

"Yes; for there is a false pride, which makes people very silly and vain; which keeps them from doing their duty very often. You have none of this kind of pride."

"I hope not."

"Your friend Simon Sneed, whom the mayor spoke to me about, affords us a very good example of the folly of cherishing false pride. Where is Simon now?"

"He keeps a store in Washington Street. He is a salesman now, and I don't think he is so foolish as he was."

"Perhaps the lesson he learned did him good. But I am keeping you away from your mother, Katy. Who stays with her while you are away?"

"Mrs. Sneed—Simon's mother."

"Then she is a good woman."

"And Simon is very kind; he has done a great many things for me, and I hope I shall be able to do something for him one of these days."

"That's right, Katy. Think well of your friends, though others speak ill of them," said Grace. "Ah, there comes the carriage. I am going home with you, Katy, to see your mother."

"You are very kind, Miss Grace."

"Here is the money," added Mrs. Gordon, handing her a little roll of bills.

"Thank you, ma'am," replied Katy, as she placed the money in her porte-monnaie. "But——"

Here she came to a full stop, and her face was as crimson as a blush rose, but she took out the silver watch, and approached Mrs. Gordon.

"What were you going to say, Katy?"

"I brought this watch up," stammered she.

"What for?"

"You know I am a poor girl, my mother is a poor woman, and we didn't want you to think you were giving us the money, for we are very proud; that is, my mother is very proud, and so am I; and——"

Here Katy drew a long breath, and came to a full stop again, unable to say what she wanted to say.

"If you want anything else, Katy, don't hesitate to mention it; for I will not do anything to mortify your pride, even if it is unreasonable," said Mrs. Gordon. "I understand you perfectly; the twenty dollars is not a gift, but a loan."

"Yes, ma'am; but if we should never be able to pay it, then it would be a gift."

"No, it wouldn't."

"I think so; and so I brought this watch, which you will please to take as security for the payment of the loan," said Katy, much confused, as she offered the watch to Mrs. Gordon.

"My dear child, I do not want any security. Your word is just as good as your bond."

"But I would rather you would take it. My mother is prouder than I am, for she wasn't always as poor as she is now."

Katy suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth, when she recollected that this was a forbidden topic.

"Some time you may tell me all about your mother; and I will call and see her to-morrow, and help you take care of her."

"Please to take the watch, ma'am."

"If you very much desire it, I shall do so, though I cannot take it as security. Is this the watch you carried to the pawnbroker?" said Mrs. Gordon as she took the treasure.

"Yes, ma'am. It belonged to my father."

Mrs. Gordon turned over the watch, and looked at it with considerable interest, as she thought of it as a memento of the dead, and how highly it must be prized by the poor woman.

"Mercy, what's this!" exclaimed she, starting back, and staggering towards her chair.

"What is the matter, mother?" cried Grace, running to her side. "Are you ill?"

"No, Grace; that inscription!" replied Mrs. Gordon, faintly, for she seemed very deeply moved, and on the point of swooning. "Bring me a glass of water."

There was no water in the room, but Michael was in the entry, and was dispatched to procure it. He returned in a moment, and when Mrs. Gordon had in some measure recovered from the sudden shock she pointed to the inscription on the back of the watch:—

"M. G. to J. R. All for the Best."

"What does, it mean, mother? I do not see anything very strange about that."

"I have seen this watch before," she replied, stopping to think. "Where did your mother get this watch, Katy?" she asked, as it occurred to her that she might be arriving at a conclusion too suddenly.

"It was my father's."

"Where did your father get it? Did you ever hear your mother say?"

"Yes, ma'am; her father, who was a rich Liverpool merchant, gave it to her husband, my father," replied Katy, who felt justified in revealing what her mother had told her to keep secret.

"Mercy!" gasped Mrs. Gordon, almost overcome by her emotions.

"What is the matter, mother? What has all this to do with you?" asked Grace, anxiously.

"Come here, Katy, my child," continued Mrs. Gordon, as she drew the little candy merchant to her side, and warmly embraced her. "Your mother, Katy, is my sister, I have scarcely a doubt."

"Why, mother! Is it possible?" exclaimed Grace.

"It is even so. Mrs. Redburn, whose name we have often heard mentioned without thinking it might be the wife of John Redburn, my father's clerk, is my sister. I had given her up, and have regarded her as dead for more than ten years. But, Grace, get my things, and I will go to her at once."

"Is that your portrait, ma'am?" asked Katy, pointing to the picture of the mischievous lady.

"No, child; that is your mother's portrait."

"I almost knew it."

"It was taken when she was only sixteen years old. She was a gay, wild girl then. I suppose she is sadly changed now."

The thought completely overcame Mrs. Gordon, and throwing herself upon a sofa, she wept like a child. She thought of her sister suffering from poverty and want, while she had been rolling in opulence and plenty. Grace tried to comfort her, but it was some time before she was in a condition to enter the carriage which was waiting at the door.

"What an adventure, mother!" exclaimed Grace, as she seated herself by the side of Katy; and it was evident she had a vein of the romantic in her composition.

"Do not talk to me, Grace. My heart is too full for words."

"But I may talk to Katy—may I not?"

"Yes."

"Well, cousin Katy," laughed Grace; "I shall call you cousin, though you are not really my cousin."

"Not your cousin?" said Katy, a shade of disappointment crossing her animated features.

"No; for Mrs. Gordon is not really my mother; only my stepmother; but she is just as good as a real mother, for I never knew any other. Dear me! how strange all this is! And you will go up and live with us in Temple Street, and——"

"I can't leave my mother," interrupted Katy.

"You mother shall go, too."

"She is too sick now."

Grace continued to talk as fast as she could, laying out ever so many plans for the future, till the carriage reached Colvin Court. I will not follow them into the chamber of the sick woman; where Mrs. Gordon, by a slow process that did not agitate the invalid too violently, revealed herself to her sister. The fine lady of Temple Street had a heart, a warm and true heart, and not that day, nor that night, nor for a week, did she leave the sick bed of the sufferer. There, in the midst of her sister's poverty, she did a sister's offices.

It was three weeks before Mrs. Redburn was in a condition to be moved to her sister's house; and then she was once more in the midst of the luxury and splendor of her early life. One day, when she had improved so much as to be able to bear the fatigue of a long conversation, Mrs. Gordon, who had thus far declined to discuss any exciting topics with the invalid proposed to have everything explained. Each had a very long story to tell; but as the reader already knows Mrs. Redburn's history, I shall only briefly narrate that of Mrs. Gordon and the Guthrie family, after the departure of the former.

Mr. Guthrie, the father of both, died two years after the flight of Margaret—Mrs. Redburn—when of course there was a large property to be divided. Diligent search was made for Margaret in America but her husband had declared to some person in Liverpool that he had an engagement in Montreal. This place was thoroughly canvassed, but without success. No trace of the runaways could be discovered. Agents were sent to various parts of America, and no tidings of Margaret had ever reached them.

About two year after her father's death, Jane—Mrs. Gordon—had married a very wealthy gentleman from Baltimore. He was then a widower with one child—Grace Gordon. She had come to America with him, and resided in Baltimore till his death, a period of only two years. Then, having never liked to live in that city, she had removed to Boston, where she had a few friends. She had invested her money and resided there, very happily situated, and with no desire to return to her native land.

Her father's estate had been divided, and the portion which belonged to Margaret was held in trust for seven years—when the law presumed she was dead—and was then delivered to her sister, who was the only remaining heir. Now that she had appeared, it was promptly paid over to her, and Mrs. Redburn, before poor and proud, was now rich, and humility never sat more gracefully on the brow of woman than on hers.

Katy and her mother had entered upon a new life, and in the midst of luxury and splendor, they could not forget the past nor cease to thank God for His past and present mercies. Mrs. Gordon used to declare it was strange she had never thought that Mrs. Redburn might be her sister; but it was declared that stranger things than that had happened.

Katy continued to go to school with great regularity, and became an excellent scholar. She was beloved by all her companions and Grace, who was married shortly after Katy entered the family, always regarded her with the affection of a sister, insisting that she should spend half the time at her house. Mrs. Redburn was soon completely restored to health. She had a fortune to manage now, and when Dr. Flynch proposed to collect her rents and take charge of her affairs, she respectfully declined the offer. Mrs. Gordon did not like him as well as formerly, for her sister had opened her eyes in regard to his true character, and she soon found an opportunity to discharge him.

Having carried Katy through her principal troubles and chronicled the rise and fall of the candy trade we shall step forward ten years to take a final look at her and her friends, and then bid them farewell.



CHAPTER XXI.

KATY GOES TO CHURCH, AND HAS A BIRTHDAY PARTY.

Ten years is a long time—long enough to change the child into a woman, the little candy merchant into a fine lady. I suppose, therefore, that my young friends will need to be introduced to Miss Redburn. There she sits in the pleasant apartment in Temple Street, where the picture of the mischievous girl still hangs, though it looks very little like the matron at her side, for whom it was taken. She is not beautiful enough to be the heroine of a romance, neither has she done any absurd thing; she has only supported her mother when she had no one else to care for her. But Katy is irresistible if she is not pretty. She still looks as pleasant as a morning in June, and smiles sweetly when any one speaks to her and when she speaks to any one.

I am sorry I cannot inform my young lady friends how Miss Redburn was dressed, or how she proposed to dress, at her birthday party, which was to come off the following week—what silks, what laces what muslins, and what jewels she was to wear. I can only say that she was dressed very plainly, and that her garments were exceedingly becoming; and that she had steadily resisted the solicitations of sundry French milliners and dressmakers to exceed her usual simplicity at the party—and I cordially command her example to all young ladies.

While Miss Redburn sat at the window, the doorbell rang with great violence; and Michael—yes, Michael—he is still there, a veteran in the service of Mrs. Gordon, and fully believing that Katy is an angel—Michael hastened to admit Grace. She is a little older than when we saw her last, but she is the same Grace. She enters the room, kisses Katy with as much zeal as though she had not seen her for months, though they had met the day before. She had scarcely saluted her cousin before a little fat man of six came tumbling into the room, for he had not been able to keep up with his mother.

"Come, aunty," said little Tommy, who persisted in calling her by this title, as he rolled up to Miss Redburn, who gave him a hearty kiss—"come, aunty, I want you to come right down into the kitchen, and make me a lot of molatheth candy."

"Not now, Tommy"—would you believe it, reader? that little boy's name is Thomas Howard Parker—"not now, Tommy. I came to tell you, Katy, that the King of the Billows has been telegraphed."

"Has she?" exclaimed Katy, a deep blush suffusing her cheek.

"Yes; and you must go right down to the wharf, or we shall not be in season to see Captain Howard, who is coming up in a pilot boat."

Miss Redburn hastened to put on her things, and she and Mrs. Parker seated themselves in the carriage that waited them.

Of course, you know Captain Howard, reader? He has followed the sea only eleven years; and though but twenty-five years old, he is the commander of a fine clipper, and sails in the Liverpool line. He is frequently quoted as an example of what patient perseverance will accomplish; for, with very little aid from friends, he has worked his way from the forecastle into the cabin. He is a self-educated man, and has the reputation of being a thorough sailor and a perfect gentleman.

Pursuant to a little arrangement made between Captain Howard and Miss Redburn, just as he departed on this voyage, they were both seen in church on the following Thursday afternoon; and when they came out, people addressed Katy as Mrs. Howard. But to pass on to the occasions which she had chosen to call a birthday party, though it was not exactly that; and as it came immediately after the church service, some called it a levee.

There are a great many persons in the Gordon mansion, as many as two hundred, I should think. Of course, I cannot stop to introduce all of them, but there are a few who deserve this favor.

"Mr. Sneed, I am delighted to see you," said Mrs. Howard, as a very tall and very slim gentleman, elegantly dressed, approached.

"You do me honor, madam. It is the superlative felicity of my sublunary existence to congratulate you on this auspicious occasion," replied Mr. Sneed, as he gently pressed the gloved hand of the lady.

That sounds just like Master Simon Sneed, only very much intensified. Simon is a salesman still in a large establishment—has never risen above that position and probably never will; for, born to be a gentleman, he feels as much above his business as his business really is above him.

Simon's father and mother say a pleasant word to the bride, and pass on. And here comes a great fat woman, whose tongue flies like the shuttle in a loom. Well, it is the captain's mother. Since her son has been prosperous, she has had an easy time of it, and has grown very corpulent.

"Who do you think has come, Katy?" puffed Mrs. Howard.

"I don't know. Who?"

"Mrs. Colvin, that was! Mrs. McCarty, that is."

Some of the very good-natured people laughed, and some of the very fastidious ones turned up their noses, when they saw Mrs. McCarty so warmly received by the bride; but she did not care who laughed or who sneered; she was not too proud to welcome, in the hour of prosperity and happiness, those who had been her friends in adversity.

"Mrs. Howard, I congratulate you," said a fat man, who was puffing and blowing at the heat of the room.

It was an ex-mayor and after he had said a few pleasant words, he passed on to make room for a hundred more who were waiting to speak to the bride.

That was a very pleasant party; but as we are opposed to crowded rooms and late hours, we may as well retire.

The next day the happy couple started upon a bridal tour, and on their return, Captain Howard sailed for Liverpool, in his fine ship, with Mrs. Howard as a passenger.

And now my young friend, adieu. If you are poor, don't be too proud to work at any honest occupation; but be too proud to do wrong—too proud to degrade yourself in your own eyes, by doing a mean act; and in this sense you may truly be "Poor and Proud."

THE END