cident has probably deprived you of the means of earning a
livelihood?"

"I can still sew," returned the girl, courageously, "although of
course I cannot get about easily to search for employment."

"But why did you leave Chicago?" asked Beth.

"I was coming to that part of my story. When I got the hundred dollars
Aunt Martha decided I must use it to go to Leadville, to my Uncle
Anson, who is my mother's only brother. He is a miner out there, and
Aunt Martha says he is quite able to take care of me. So she bought my
ticket and put me on the train and I'm now on my way to Leadville to
find Uncle Anson."

"To _find_ him!" exclaimed Patsy. "Don't you know his address?"

"No; we haven't had a letter from him for two years. But Aunt Martha
says he must be a prominent man, and everybody in Leadville will know
him, as it's a small place."

"Does he know you are coming?" asked Beth, thoughtfully.

"My aunt wrote him a letter two days before I started, so he ought
to receive it two days before I get there," replied Myrtle, a little
uneasily. "Of course I can't help worrying some, because if I failed
to find Uncle Anson I don't know what might happen to me."

"Have you money?" asked Beth.

"A little. About three dollars. Aunt gave me a basket of food to last
until I get to Leadville, and after paying for my ticket and taking
what I owed her for board there wasn't much left from the hundred
dollars."

"What a cruel old woman!" cried Patsy, wrathfully. "She ought to be
horsewhipped!"

"I am sure it was wrong for her to cast you off in this heartless
way," added Beth, more conservatively.

"She is not really bad," returned Myrtle, the tears starting to her
eyes. "But Aunt Martha has grown selfish, and does not care for me
very much. I hope Uncle Anson will be different. He is my mother's
brother, you know, while Aunt Martha is only my father's sister, and
an old maid who has had rather a hard life. Perhaps," she added,
wistfully, "Uncle Anson will love me--although I'm not strong or
well."

Both Patsy and Beth felt desperately sorry for the girl.

"What is Uncle Anson's other name?" asked the latter, for Beth was
the more practical of Uncle John's nieces and noted for her clear
thinking.

"Jones. Mr. Anson Jones."

"Rather a common name, if you have to hunt for him," observed the
questioner, musingly. "Has he been in Leadville long?"

"I do not know," replied Myrtle. "His last letter proved that he was
in Lea