side Mandoline on the
"pin-feathers."

This stolen visit had turned out quite, quite different from her
anticipations. Instead of a delightful supper of some mysterious Jewish
cookery, she had been drinking gall and wormwood. That Lina would not
let her go--THAT was the gall; that her father made her stay--THIS was
the wormwood.

"She is a tough piece," sighed Mrs. Rosenberg, as she laid her weary
limbs to repose; "I didn't know, one while, but she'd get away in spite
of me. I wonder what her father'll pay me. He seems to think this is a
house of correction. Her mother won't be likely to let her stay more than
one day. I'll have on the best table-cloth for breakfast; and along in
the forenoon I'll fetch out some macaroni cakes and lager beer; that'll
coax her up, I guess."

Just then Mrs. Rosenberg down stairs and Dotty Dimple up stairs both fell
asleep. One dreamed of running away and being chased by a dog with a hat
on his head, who barked "Good-night" as fiercely as a bite. The other
dreamed of money and brown sugar. And all the while the rats were
treating themselves to nibbles of wood; but nobody heard them. Be
careful, old rats! Your teeth have done mischief before now! The night
wore on to the wee small hours, when a loud noise like a cannon startled
Mrs. Rosenberg; or was she dreaming? The house was shaken to its very
foundation, as if by an earthquake, and the room was full of smoke. She
was just running for the children, when the building fell together with a
crash, the roof was blown off into the street, the windows were shivered
to atoms, and tongues of flame leaped madly up from the ruins.

What did it mean? She was so stunned by the shock that she scarcely cared
whether one of her children was spared or not; she only thought in her
stupor that Mr. Parlin would not pay her for Dotty's lodging if the child
was blown to pieces.

"I know how it happened," said she, twitching at her own hair to arouse
herself. "Just as Abraham always said; the rats have been nibbling
matches in the store; they've burned a hole through the floor, and set
fire to that keg of gunpowder. Yes, that's it!"

CHAPTER VII.

PLAYING PRISONER.

I know how it happened, too. It came of eating sausages. Mrs. Rosenberg,
after she was fairly awake, felt so uncomfortable and oppressed that she
went up stairs to see if the children were safe. Really, I do suppose
those little human souls were precious to her, after all.

Ther