rned that calculating economy
which provides a great deal with very small means.

Hence it was much harder for her to support herself and child, than it
would have been for one who had been brought up in a hovel.

She had done very well, however, until, a few months before our story
opens, she had been taken sick, and was no longer able to work. Her
disease was an affection of the spine, which was at times very painful,
and confined her to the bed.

"But where is your father now?" asked Katy, when her mother had
finished the narrative.

"I do not know; if he is alive, he probably lives in Liverpool."

"Why don't you write a letter to him?"

"I have done so several times, but have never received any reply. I
wrote shortly after your father died, giving an account of my
situation. I am sure my father never could have got my letter, or he
would have answered me. I know he would not let me suffer here in woe
and want, if he were aware of my condition."

"Why don't you write again?"

"It is useless."

"Let me write, mother. I will call him dear grandfather, and I am sure
he will send you some money then: perhaps he will send for us to go to
Liverpool, and live in his great house, and have servants to wait upon
us."

"Alas, my child, I have given up all hope of ever seeing him again in
this world. In my letters I confessed my fault, and begged his
forgiveness. He cannot be alive, or I am sure my last letters would
have melted his heart."

"Haven't you any brothers and sisters, mother?"

"I had one sister; and I have written several letters to her, but with
no better success. They may be all dead. I fear they are."

"And your mother?"

"She died when I was young. I know Jane would have answered my letters
if she had received them."

"She was your sister?"

"Yes; she must be dead; and I suppose my father's property must be in
the hands of strangers, covering their floors with soft carpets, and
their tables with nice food, while I lie here in misery, and my poor
child actually suffers from hunger;" and the afflicted mother clasped
her daughter in her arms, and wept as though her heart would burst.

"Don't cry, mother. I was not very hungry. We have had enough to eat
till to-day. I am going to take care of you now, you have taken care of
me so long," replied Katy, as she wiped away the tears that flowed down
her mother's wan cheek.

"What can you do, poor child?"

"I can do a great many things; I am sure