atch, so took that way to get rid of me. But I
will have it next week, and I shall have a policeman to go with me to
get it."

"Did you tell the grocer anything about the trouble you have had?" the
invalid inquired.

"No, mamma; I simply offered the coin in payment for what I bought,
and he took it without a word," Edith replied, but flushing slightly,
for she felt a trifle guilty about passing the money after what had
occurred.

"I almost wish you had," said her mother.

"I thought I would, at first, but--I knew we must have something to
eat, and fuel to keep us warm between now and Monday, and so I allowed
the grocer to take it upon his own responsibility," the young girl
responded, with a desperate little glitter in her lovely eyes.

Her companion made no reply, although there was a shade of anxiety
upon her wan face.

Edith, removing her things, bustled about, and soon had a cheerful
fire and an appetizing meal prepared.

Her spirits appeared to rise with the temperature of the room, and she
chatted cheerfully while about her work, telling a number of
interesting incidents that had occurred in connection with her
employment during the week.

"Now come, mamma," she remarked, at length; "let me help you into your
chair and wheel you up to the table, for supper is ready, and I am
sure you will enjoy these delicious oysters, which I have cooked as
you like them best."

Mother and daughter were chatting pleasantly, enjoying their meal,
when the door of their room was thrown rudely open and two men strode
into their presence.

Edith started to her feet in mingled indignation and alarm, then grew
deadly pale when she observed that one of the intruders was an
officer, and the other the grocer of whom she had made her recent
purchases.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" she demanded, trying in vain
to keep her tones steady and her heart from sinking with a terrible
dread.

"There! Mr. Officer; that is the girl who passed the counterfeit money
at my store," the grocer exclaimed, his face crimson with anger.

Edith uttered a smothered cry of anguish, then sank weakly back into
her chair, as the man went forward to her side, laid his hand upon
her shoulder, and remarked:

"You are my prisoner, miss."

CHAPTER II.

A STANCH FRIEND MAKES A VAIN APPEAL.

Beautiful Edith Allandale and her gentle, refined mother had been
suddenly hurled from affluence down into the very depths of poverty.

O