is true," said Etta, thoughtfully. "It's strange! I can't believe
that Katie's dishonest."

"Oh, she isn't; I'm sure she isn't! I only wish I could prove it; but
this is all I know about the matter."

"Well, dear, thank you for saying what you have said. Don't say a word
about it among your companions. I know I can trust you that far, and I
will find out the mystery somehow. Good-night, Gretchen. God bless you
in your new service," and Miss Eunice kissed her, little German
factory-girl though she was.

"Find out the mystery? Of course we can; just as easy as possible, now,"
said Etta. "All we've got to do is just to ask James if such an
occurrence ever happened in the mill."

And Mr. James Mountjoy promptly coming in at that moment, both sisters
appealed to him, and heard in return a very simple statement of the
whole affair.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I did mean to. I thought it so noble in the child. Five girls out of
every six would have put the money into their pockets, and said nothing
about it. It was very brave in her, too, to tell me how she had been
tempted to keep it."

"I know why he did not tell," said the elder sister, looking fondly at
her brother. "Five employers out of six would have accepted the money as
their right, and the finder have been none the better for it. Our James
is not apt to trumpet his own praises."

The young man colored, and said:--

"I think Katie Robertson is an uncommonly fine girl. I was struck by
something she said the day she entered the mill. I asked her if she
thought she could be a faithful little girl, and she said she was trying
to please God everywhere, and she was sure he would help her here. I
think she has acted up to that idea ever since. I have watched her from
time to time, and I can not find that she has ever been guilty of
disobedience to rules, or any kind of underhand behavior. Her work has
always been faithfully done, and her example has been of great use in
keeping order among the others. Sanderson is enthusiastic in his praises
of her bravery and womanly unselfishness. He says she came to his house
at the risk of her own life, and helped his poor, tired-out wife take
care of the two sick children with as much earnestness, and almost as
much skill, as a professional nurse. She stayed there till the aunt from
the city came, thus losing five days' work. I offered her the wages for
those days when I found it out, but she told me Mr. Sanderson had given