shortly order Tony to do just what Miss
Barstow wanted, if he knew what was good for him; and Tony obeyed
without question, as did every one else in that part of the city who
received orders from Mr. Kean.

That was the way Gabriella remained in the school until she was past
twelve years old, and until the time her mother, who helped Tony at the
fruit-stand, was taken sick. Then Gabriella took her mother's place, but
she too became ill, and Tony had to close his fruit-stand part of each
twenty-four hours, which caused that very penurious Italian great misery
of mind, for his was what is known as an "all-night" stand, and he
bitterly lamented his loss of trade during the hours of closing.
Gabriella, under the careful nursing of Miss Barstow, soon became well
and strong again; but the mother did not, and that was the reason it
became necessary for the girl to take her place at the stand part of the
time, dividing with her mother the hours when Tony went home to eat and
sleep.

Miss Barstow knew that if she interfered further to keep Gabriella off
the street and at school she might, with Mr. Kean's aid, succeed in
doing so; but her knowledge of tenement-house life made her realize that
such action would make the girl's home life unhappy. So she let her
favorite scholar go without protest, intending, however, to keep as
close a watch over her as she could, and to regain her for her school
later, if she found that the girl's mother became strong enough not to
need Gabriella's help.

Gabriella's "watches"--that is, the time she was on duty at the
fruit-stand--were always in the day-time, and Miss Barstow would stop
there frequently to speak to her on her way to the Mission House. She
did this to keep track of the girl, and to leave her a book now and
then. These were the only happy moments in the poor girl's life. She had
learned to love Miss Barstow, and to care very much for books and other
things Miss Barstow had interested her in, which now seemed far removed
from her life, except when they were recalled by these visits from her
teacher.

Every day now she went to the fruit-stand on the Bowery in the morning
to relieve her father. There it was her duty to keep the stacks and
pyramids of fruit in order, to dust them, to replace with fresh fruit
from the boxes underneath the stand the pieces which she sold, and to
keep a sharp look-out against the nimble hands of thievish youngsters.
Every piece of fruit was carefully