un. But, as Mary had feared, the work did not progress
altogether to her satisfaction. She had never made over one or two
white Marseilles vests, and found that she was not so well skilled in
the art of neat and accurate stitching as was required to give the
garment a beautiful and workmanlike appearance. The stitches did not
impress themselves along the edges with the accuracy that her eye told
her was required, and she was troubled to find that, be as careful as
she would, the pure white fabric grew soiled beneath her fingers. Mary,
to whom she frequently submitted the work, tried to encourage her; but
her eyes were not deceived.

It was after dark when Ellen finished the garment. She was weary and
faint; for she had taken no food since morning, and had been bending
over her work, with very little intermission, the whole day; and she
had no hope of receiving any thing more to do, for Mr. Lawson, she was
sure, would not be pleased with the way the vest was made. But, want of
every thing, and particularly food for herself and sister, made the sum
of seventy-five cents, to be received for the garment, a little
treasure in her eyes; and she hurried off with the vest the moment it
was finished.

"I will bring home a little tea, sister," she said, as she was about
leaving; "I am sure a cup of tea will do you good; and I feel as if it
would revive and strengthen me."

Mary looked at Ellen with a tender, pitying expression, while her large
bright eyes shone glassy in the dim rays sent forth by a poor lamp; but
she did not reply. She had a gnawing in her stomach, that made her feel
faint, and a most earnest craving for nourishing and even stimulating
food, the consequence of long abstinence as well as from the
peculiarity of her disease. But she did not breathe a word of this to
Ellen, who would, she knew, expend for her every cent of the money she
was about to receive, if she was aware of the morbid appetite from
which she was suffering.

"I will be back soon," added Ellen, as she retired from the room.

Mary sighed deeply when alone. She raised her eyes upwards for a few
moments, then closing them and clasping her hands tightly together, she
lay with her white face turned towards the light, more the image of
death than of life.

"Here it is past eight o'clock, and that vest is not yet in," said Mr.
Lawson, in a fretful tone. "I had my doubts about the girl when I gave
it to her. But she looked so poor, and seemed so e