exclamations, to prove their gratitude. "Always remember
hereafter, when you feel unhappy, that 'God watches over you, and will
surely send some one to help you if you only try to do right.'"

She tried to encourage herself with this thought, as she resumed her
walk. It strengthened her to renewed effort. She paused before a store,
where the wealth of the earth seemed to be collected in the "gold and
silver and precious stones," that dazzled her eyes to look upon.

An elderly gentleman lounged behind the counter. She went directly up to
him, and asked, in a straightforward manner.

"How much will you give me for this ring?"

It was a solitaire diamond, and had been her mother's birthday gift. The
man looked at her keenly, and saw that she was not used to bargaining.
He read at a glance, the story of the delicate, mourning clad girl
before him.

"Fifty dollars." he answered, coolly.

"But it cost three times that sum," said Clemence, "and although I need
the money, I cannot sacrifice so valuable an article in that manner.
Besides its intrinsic value, it is very dear to me by association."

"Can't help that," said the man, coarsely, "its intrinsic value is all
that concerns me. If you don't wish to sell it, of course you can keep
it. Seeing, however, that its a pretty young lady, I'll make it
seventy-five."

"Could you not make it a hundred?" she asked, hesitatingly.

"Not a cent more than seventy-five," he said emphatically. He read the
despair in her face, and knew that whatever her emergency, it was so
great that she must come to his terms. "You see, young woman," he
condescended to explain, "you are not accustomed to this mode of
business, and you do not realize that when people want ready money they
must give a fair equivalent in order to get it. Times are hard, and a
dollar is a dollar now. Six weeks later I might give you the sum you
demand, but, to-day, it is quite impossible."

"Very well, give me the money," said Clemence, desperately; "I cannot
wait a day longer."

"Cruel, cruel!" she said, as she walked homeward. "It will not meet our
demands. Where is all this to end?" The keen March wind was kind to her
in one respect, it removed from her face all traces of emotion that
would have disturbed the invalid.

Rap, rap, rap, at the little third story room. "Come in," called
Clemence, listlessly. Mrs. Mann's cheery face looked in at the door.

"Something for Mrs. Graystone," she said, holding out a