on: Bessie]

"Well, Molly, what have you brought us?" exclaimed this interesting
invalid, in a voice by no means agreeable.

"_I_ have n't got anything," was the reply; "but here's a rich little
miss, as says she has got something for us; she _would_ come herself,
instead of giving it to me."

The woman took her pipe from her lips, and fixing a pair of hard,
hungry eyes upon Bessie, as she stood smiling kindly, with her basket
on her arm, like a dear little Red Ridinghood, broke out with, "And
what put it into the head of such a fine lady to come anear the likes
of us the day?"

"I wanted to see how poor people live," replied Bessie, honestly, "and
I have brought you something for Christmas," she continued, stepping up
a little timidly, and offering her basket.

The woman caught it eagerly, and turned its contents into her lap.
"And is this all?" she growled. "A pretty dinner, _indade_, for a
starving family; nuts and candies and the like! No bread, not the
_laste_ taste of butter or _mate_."

"O, I thought you would have such common things," said Bessie; "but I
have some money to buy them with."

At this, a tall figure sprang up from a heap of rags in a dark corner,
and came forward,--a very dirty, disreputable-looking man. Bessie, who
had taken him for a sick man, was surprised to see that he also had a
fine color in his cheeks, and even in his nose, but she noticed that he
seemed very weak in his legs. "Hello! my little angel," he cried;
"give _me_ the money," and rudely caught the _porte-monnaie_ from
Bessie's hand.

His right to it was disputed by the woman, and they two quarrelled over
pennies, dimes, and dollars, as "the three darling little brothers"
quarrelled over apples, nuts, and candies.

"Who is that man?" asked Bessie, beginning to be frightened.

"It's father," replied Molly.

"Why, you told me your father was dead. What makes you tell such
stories?" exclaimed Bessie, greatly shocked.

"_She_ makes me," said Molly. "May be you would tell stories, rather
than be beaten half to death."

At last the disreputable-looking man, having secured the lion's share
of the money, snatched up an old hat and staggered towards the door.
He stopped a moment beside Bessie, saying, "I 'm obliged to you,
darling. This will get me something good for Christmas."

"Some new clothes?" asked Bessie.

"No, miss; something better nor clothes."

"Food?"

"No; something better nor food."

As he held a