an came forward to meet her.

'What are you here for?' she said, fiercely; 'this is Christmas eve!
there's none for me--I wish I could cry, but my tears are dried up,'
snatching her tawdry cap from her head and stamping on it; 'but you're
not a devil yet. Go home, if you've got a home! out the back
way--quick!'

The woman caught her shoulder, pulled away the paper, and pointed to the
picture on the wall.

'Look at _that_! When I see that, I think sometimes I'm in hell! What
has that got to do with me? Do you want to get out of the reach of that?
Go home, go home,' shaking her furiously.

'I can't! I can't!' cried Jane, desperately. 'He won't let me. 'Twas
here or the street, I thought; I've been here three weeks, and
to-night's no more'n other nights.'

A voice called in the front room, and the woman put on her cap and ran
in; Jane stood where she left her. She hardly knew what moved her
to-night; she saw her own body walking about, tense and foreign, as
though some possession had it; she had felt a new, strange kind of
strength all day, after she had her cry out. She looked up at the
picture again, saying slowly to herself:

'It's for _them_--I've got father, and mother, and sister, and
brethren.'

Nine o'clock struck, and people began to come in; there was likely to be
a rush to-night, and the players in the front room commenced their
liveliest round of operatic airs. One after another turned into the side
room, and the calls for service grew lively. Jane moved among them
mechanically, thinking all the while of Nobby tossing in his pain; of
the tree waiting for to-morrow; of her father turned out of his place;
of the rent and the grocer's bill that were about due; and of her own
wages, pretty much all that was left. Was it such a terrible sin to be
there--for _them_? Then she shivered to think she might be sliding down.
No, no, she would be kept--they should be taken care of, but she
wouldn't fall while she had them to think of. A hot flush colored her
face as she thought of young Prescott, confusing her so that she almost
stumbled. What would _he_ think if he knew where she worked? No matter,
he shouldn't know it. He would take her out of this by and by, and after
that she would tell him all about it, and what she did it for, and he
would love her all the better for it.

The hours struck and went by, and the room grew hotter and noisier. Once
the tables were emptied; but a fresh party came in, and their lea