d not call after the girl, but suffered her
to go down stairs and leave the house without an effort to detain her.

"She must gang her ain gait," said the lady, fretfully and with a
measure of hardness in her voice.

On reaching the street, Ethel Ridley--the reader has guessed her
name--walked away with slow, unsteady steps. She felt helpless and
friendless. Mrs. Sandford had offered to find her a home if she would
abandon her father and little brother. The latter, as Mrs. Sandford
urged, could be sent to his mother's relatives, where he would be much
better off than now.

Not for a single instant did Ethel debate the proposition. Heart and
soul turned from it. She might die in her effort to keep a home for her
wretched father, but not till then had she any thought of giving up.

On leaving the house of Mr. Elliott, Mrs. Birtwell went home, and after
remaining there for a short time ordered her carriage and drove to a
part of the town lying at considerable distance from that in which she
lived. Before starting she had given her driver the name of the street
and number of the house at which she was going to make a call. The
neighborhood was thickly settled, and the houses small and poor. The
one before which the carriage drew up did not look quite so forlorn as
its neighbors; and on glancing up at the second-story windows, Mrs.
Birtwell saw two or three flower-pots, in one of which a bright rose
was blooming.

"This is the place you gave me, ma'am," said the driver as he held open
the door. "Are you sure it is right?"

"I presume so;" and Mrs. Birtwell stepped out, and crossing the
pavement to the door, rang the bell. It was opened by a
pleasant-looking old woman, who, on being asked if a Miss Ridley lived
there, replied in the affirmative.

"You will find her in the front room up stairs, ma'am," she added.
"Will you walk up?"

The hall into which Mrs. Birtwell passed was narrow and had a rag
carpet on the floor. But the carpet was clean and the atmosphere pure.
Ascending the stairs, Mrs. Birtwell knocked at the door, and was
answered by a faint "Come in" from a woman's voice.

The room in which she found herself a moment afterward was almost
destitute of furniture. There was no carpet nor bureau nor wash-stand,
only a bare floor, a very plain bedstead and bed, a square pine table
and three chairs. There was not the smallest ornament of any kind on
the mantel-shelf but in the windows were three pots of flowers