little ones, as to whose special gifts there
was as yet no definite knowledge. In the mean time they were simply
three very clamorous mouths to be stopped with such food as might be;
and Rose entered a bag-factory a block away, leaving bread and knife and
molasses-pitcher by Norah's bed, and trusting the saints to avert
disaster from the three experimenting babies. She earned the first month
ten dollars, or two and a half a week, but being exceptionally quick,
was promoted in the second to four dollars weekly. The rent was six
dollars a month; and during the first one the old shoemaker came to the
rescue, had an occasional eye to the children, and himself paid the
rent, telling Rose to return it when she could. When the ten hours'
labor ended, the child, barely fourteen, rushed home to cook something
warm for supper, and when the children were comforted and tucked away in
the wretched old bed, that still was clean and decent, washed and mended
their rags of clothes, and brought such order as she could into the
forlorn room.

It was the old shoemaker, a patient, sad-eyed old Scotchman, who also
had his story, who settled for her at last that a machine must be had
in order that she might work at home. The woman in the room back of his
took in shirts from a manufacturer on Division Street, and made often
seven and eight dollars a week. She was ready to teach, and in two or
three evenings Rose had practically mastered details, and settled that,
as she was so young, she would not apply for work in person, but take it
through Mrs. Moloney, who would be supposed to have gone into business
on her own account as a "sweater." Whatever temptations Mrs. Moloney may
have had to make a little profit as "middle-man," she resisted and
herself saw that the machine selected was a good one; that no advantage
was taken of Rose's inexperience; and that the agent had no opportunity
to follow out what had now and then been his method, and hint to the
girl that her pretty face entitled her to concessions that would be best
made in a private interview. Shame in every possible form and phase had
been part of the girl's knowledge since babyhood, but it had slipped
away from her, as a foul garment might fall from the fair statue over
which it had chanced to be thrown. It was not the innocence of
ignorance,--a poor possession at best. It was an ingrained repulsion,
born Heaven knows how, and growing as mysteriously with her growth, an
invisible yet