sleeve, and showing me the blue spots on her arms); and then I was
afraid she would kill me, and so I tried to learn, because I thought if
I minded her, perhaps she would let me see mamma;--but she never did;
and I slept in the cellar with her nights, and in the day time, before
light, she takes me out into the country to play. See, my feet are very
sore"--(and she pulled off the heavy, coarse shoes and showed me the
blisters on them.)

"Won't _you_ take me to see my mamma, _quick_?" said Edith, putting her
little arms round my neck, as if she were afraid I would feel hurt
because she wanted to leave me so soon.

"Just as fast as old Dobbin can carry you, my darling," said I, "if you
will only tell me where to find her."

Little Edith began to cry.

"Perhaps she is dead," said she, sobbing.

"Oh, I hope not," said I, (the thought of restoring the little one had
been so delightful to me); "cheer up, my darling,--now tell me where to
find your father. What does he do for a living, Edith?"

"He has a shop," said Edith, "and knives, and forks, and scissors, and
iron things in it."

"Oh, I know; he is what we call a hardware merchant."

"Yes," said Edith, "that's it."

"Well, where's the shop?"

"In the city," said Edith, "in ---- street. My papa's name is ----
Grosvenor, Esquire."

"Well, we'll find him, Jim and I. Here's the horse and wagon, my little
musician, so jump in."

Jim whipped up, and away we jolted into town, little Edith clinging
tightly to my arm, for fear of Bridget.

Two hours and we were in ---- street. I went into a confectioner's with
little Edith, while Jim drove to her father's store.

Edith grew very impatient--a bright red spot came upon her cheek--and
she walked often to the window and looked out.

In about half an hour I saw Jim coming back up the street, and at his
side a fine looking, tall man, of thirty.

"There's Jim," said I to Edith--

"And papa! and papa!--oh, _it is_ papa--my own papa"--and she rushed to
the door with the speed of an antelope.

How can I describe to you that meeting, when I couldn't see it for my
tears? but I heard kisses and sobs, thick and fast, and the words,
"Dear papa," and "My blessed, lost Edith."

Well, nothing would do, but Jim and I must go home and see mamma, too,
who had never been outside of the door since her poor little girl was
taken away.

We drove to the house--Edith, and I and Jim, staying below stairs,
while Mr. G---- went to pr