nner, and that right
quickly," returned the mother in a voice half choked with emotion,
as she threw off her bonnet, and proceeded to cook the coarse
provisions she had obtained at the sacrifice of so much feeling. It
did not take long to boil the fish and potatoes, which were eaten
with a keen relish by two of the children, Emma and Harry. The gruel
prepared for Ella, from the flour obtained at Mrs. Grubb's, did not
much tempt the sickly appetite of the child. She sipped a few
spoonfuls, and then turned from the bowl which her mother held for
her at the bedside.

"Eat more of it, dear," said Mrs. Gaston. "It will make you feel
better."

"I'm not very hungry now, mother," answered Ella.

"Don't it taste good to you?"

"Not very good."

The child sighed as she turned her wan face toward the wall, and the
unhappy mother sighed responsive.

"I wish you would try to take a little more. It's so long since you
have eaten any thing; and you'll grow worse if you don't take
nourishment. Just two or three spoonfuls. Come, dear."

Ella, thus urged, raised herself in bed, and made an effort to eat
more of the gruel. At the third spoonful, her stomach heaved as the
tasteless fluid touched her lips.

"Indeed, mother, I can't swallow another mouthful," she said, again
sinking back on her pillow.

Slowly did Mrs. Gaston turn from the bed. She had not yet eaten of
the food, which her two well children were devouring with the
eagerness of hungry animals. Only a small portion did she now take
for herself, and that was eaten hurriedly, as if the time occupied
in attending to her own wants were so much wasted.

The meal over, Mrs. Gaston took the unfinished pair of trowsers,
and, though feeling weary and disheartened, bent earnestly to the
task before her. At this she toiled, unremittingly, until the
falling twilight admonished her to stop. The children's supper was
then prepared. She would have applied to Mrs. Grubb for a loaf of
bread, but was so certain of meeting a refusal, that she refrained
from doing so. For supper, therefore, they had only the salt fish
and potatoes.

It was one o'clock that night before exhausted nature refused
another draft upon its energies. The garment was not quite finished.
But the nerveless hand and the weary head of the poor seamstress
obeyed the requirements of her will no longer. The needle had to be
laid aside, for the finger had no more strength to grasp, nor skill
to direct its motions.