res left in the closet, and Katy made a
cup of tea for her mother, and with it placed the delicate little
flounder by the side of the bed. The invalid had no appetite, but to
please Katy she ate a portion of the fish and bread though it was very
hard work for her to do so. The little girl, gladdened by this unwonted
sight, made a hearty meal, without a thought of the trials and sorrows
which the future might have in store for them.

When she had put away the dishes, and placed everything in order, she
washed herself, combed her hair, sewed up a great rent in her dress,
and otherwise attempted to make herself as tidy as possible for the
mission she was about to undertake.

"It is not time for you to go yet, Katy; and before the watch is
carried off, I want to tell you something about your father, that you
may learn to prize it as I do."

Katy seated herself on the side of the bed, for she was very anxious to
hear more about her father than she already knew. She had often asked
her mother about him, but she had generally evaded her questions, and
did not seem willing to tell her all she knew. She thought there was
some secret connected with his history, and with a child's curiosity
she was eager to have the mystery unfolded. But it was no great secret,
after all only a painful history, which her sensitive mother did not
like to rehearse. Mrs. Redburn handed the watch to Katy, and asked her
to look upon the back of it.

"Yes, mother, I have often seen those words on there--'All for the
Best.' What do they mean?" said Katy.

"This watch was given to your father by my father," replied Mrs.
Redburn, with a deep sigh, for the words seemed to recall happy
memories of the past.

"Who was your father?" asked the attentive little girl.

"His name was Matthew Guthrie. He was a merchant in Liverpool, England,
where I was born."

"A merchant, mother? Then he was a rich man, and lived in a great
house, and had plenty of servants."

"He was rich, and lived in good style. One day there came a young man
in great distress to his counting-room. He was a clerk, and had been
sent by his employer in Manchester to pay a large sum of money to my
father. After leaving the train, he had entered an ale-house, where he
had been robbed of the remittance. He had been imprudent, but instead
of running away, he went directly to my father, and informed him of his
misfortune. The young man felt that he was ruined, but he said he was
determine