entered the room
again.

'Why didn't you tell us about this at once?' he asked, in a shaking
voice, looking at his daughter with eyes of blank misery.

'I don't know.'

'You're a bad, selfish girl!' he broke out, again overcome with anger.
'Haven't you got neither sense nor feelin' nor honesty? Just when you
ought to have begun to earn a bit higher wages--when you ought to have
been glad to work your hardest, to show you wasn't unthankful to them
as has done so much for you! Who earned money to keep you when you was
goin' to school? Who fed and clothed you, and saw as you didn't want
for nothing? Who is it as you owe everything to?--just tell me that.'

Amy affected to pay no attention. She kept swallowing morsels, with
ugly movements of her lips and jaws.

'How often have I to tell you all that if it wasn't for Sidney Kirkwood
you'd have been workhouse children? As sure as you're livin', you'd all
of you have gone to the workhouse! And you go on just as if you didn't
owe thanks to nobody. I tell you it'll be years and years before one of
you'll have a penny you can call your own. If it was Annie or Tom
behaved so careless, there'd be less wonder; but for a girl of your
age--I'm ashamed as you belong to me! You can't even keep your tongue
from bein' impudent to Clara, her as you ain't worthy to be a servant
to!'

'Clara's a sneak,' observed Tom, with much coolness. 'She's always
telling lies about us.'

'I'll half-knock your young head off your shoulders,' cried his father,
furiously, 'if you talk to me like that! Not one of you's fit to live
in the same house with her.'

'Father, I haven't done nothing,' whimpered Annie, hurt by being thus
included in his reprobation.

'No more you have--not just now, but you're often enough more trouble
to your sister than you need be. But it's you I'm talkin' to, Amy. You
dare to leave this house again till there's another place found for
you! If you'd any self-respect, you couldn't bear to look Sidney in the
face. Suppose you hadn't such a brother to work for you, what would you
do, eh? Who'd buy your food? Who'd pay the rent of the house you live
in?'

A noteworthy difference between children of this standing and such as
pass their years of play-time in homes unshadowed by poverty. For
these, life had no illusions. Of every mouthful that they ate, the
price was known to them. The roof over their heads was there by no
grace of Providence, but solely because such-and-s